


One Wild and Beautiful Life

by grimmlin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel & Meg Masters Friendship, Did I mention hurt?, Drug Use, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Minor Character Death, Prostitute Castiel (Supernatural), Prostitution, Protective Bobby Singer, Protective Dean Winchester, Recovering Alcoholic Dean Winchester, Recreational Drug Use, Sex Worker Castiel (Supernatural), Slow Burn, Struggling Castiel (Supernatural), Struggling Dean Winchester, Suicide, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 99,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23973283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmlin/pseuds/grimmlin
Summary: Castiel is resigned to his lot in life, working the streets and selling himself to makes ends meet, and he's determined to do the best he can with what little he has. Dean is struggling to hold himself together one day at a time and slowly become the kind of man his estranged little brother could be proud of. When these two broken men meet over spilled coffee they might just find exactly what they need.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Ellen Harvelle/Bobby Singer
Comments: 203
Kudos: 198





	1. The day that can only get better

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress that will update once per week until complete. More tags will be added as needed, so be sure to check... I PROMISE there will be no major character death, no rape/non-con, no underage, and no graphic violence.

Castiel spits with a grimace onto the grimy concrete. Iron coats his tongue and his jaw aches from the tightly closed fist that he couldn’t quite dodge. “Fuck,” he bites, the word tasting almost as angry as he feels as he huffs a breath through his nose and strides toward the hidden spot in the wall where he keeps his earnings.

His already threadbare black tee shirt is ripped at the collar and his knuckles sting from freshly abraded skin. He wipes his knife on his jeans before holding the small blade between his teeth as he carefully wiggles the brick free from the wall and pockets the money within.

He lets out a shaky breath and shakes his head as he replaces the brick and double-checks his surroundings.

He needs to leave.

The bruise he can feel blossoming across his cheek means that work would be slim pickings tonight anyway.

He knows he cut one of the assholes across the cheek with his blade, the faint smear of blood now staining his jeans proves as much, and his heart pounds in his chest at the thought that those men might come back.

He chased them off once, he might not be so lucky if they come prepared.

He spits again with a grimace, thankful that the ally is too dark for him to see the red tint that he knows is there. He must have bitten his cheek when the guy punched him and he sucks in a deep breath at the revelation as he cringes internally.

With broken skin in his mouth, he might need to take more than just tonight off.

His knife folds effortlessly but he doesn’t put it back in his pocket as he makes his way up the darkened alley. The concrete is damp under his feet, he can feel the dirty water seeping into his shoe from a fresh hole worn in the bottom.

This night keeps getting better.

He keeps to the shadows as he slinks from building to building, alert for any sound cutting through the night as he searches for his friend.

Finally, he emerges into the light and can’t help his faint smile when Meg trots up to him.

“Clarence, what happened?” Her eyes are wide and dark liner smudged as he cradles his cheek in her small palm.

Cas nuzzles into her touch and pointedly ignores the dull ache the contact causes. “Some assbutts tried to jump me.”

Meg huffs and shakes her head. “You didn’t kill anyone, did you?”

Now it’s Castiel’s turn to huff a laugh. “Of course not. They ran as soon as I pulled my knife.”

“Good.” Meg nods, still cradling his cheek. “You callin it a night, then?” She asks as she turns his chin this way and that, examining his bruised and broken skin.

Cas shrugs. “No one’s gonna wanna fuck me looking like this.” _At least, no one who wouldn’t be encouraged to add to the mess,_ he silently tacks on. The lingering flutter of adrenaline still makes his heart race and his stomach twist. His hands tremble so he closes them into fists at his sides before Meg can notice and offer to walk him home.

She already has enough to worry about.

Meg hums her agreement with a nod as she let him go. “Be careful getting back.”

Castiel huffs and shakes his head. “I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.”

Meg barks a laugh, the sound far too bright and pure for their situation. “Oh don’t I know it, sugar,” she says with a saucy wink that has a pang of gratitude lancing through his chest before he drags her into a tight hug that she leaves her sputtering and pushing him away despite her grin. “Get off of me, you ogre,” she jokes as she shoves him back. “And I expect a hot meal waiting for me when I get home since you’re my kept boy for the evening.”

“Mac and cheese?” He asks, already knowing that’s the extent of what they have. Not to mention it’s Meg’s favorite so he’s sure to keep them well-stocked.

“Add some tuna and you’ve got yourself a deal.” She folds her arms over her chest and glares as if he would ever deny her anything within his power.

He nods. “Pretty sure we even have some shredded cheese.”

Meg grins and rests her slender hand on his arm. “We’re gonna have a feast then. Now get out here, you’re scaring away my customers.”

“Take care of yourself,” Cas begs as he turns away to disappear into the night once again.

If he were one to pray, he would beg for a better life for both of them. But this is what they have. The one precious life they have to live and he’s determined to do the best he can for Meg even if it is absolute shit.

Soon enough, the shadows shrink back, fleeing from the light of the wide street lined with small shops that are long since closed for the day and a scant handful of neon-lit bars with thumping music pouring through their walls.

His eyes scan the darkened shop entrances and the drunks hanging around, clutching their brown bag wrapped bottles. He resists the urge to wraps his fingers around the knife in his pocket, the rumpled money in his pocket worth protecting from these disheveled and dirty men who eye him curiously.

Fifty bucks tonight. Two blow jobs.

Not enough if he's going to make rent and put food on their table.

The homeless drunks eventually turn their stare, recognizing him for what he is and offering a silent nod to acknowledge his place amongst them.

They won’t give him any trouble.

He hurries along, shoulders hunched and chin ducked even though his gaze is alert, ever vigilant for any sign of trouble or the police who cruise along, looking for any excuse to take someone down to the station in handcuffs.

Tucked amongst the bars and the drunks, the warm glow of his favorite local coffee shop beckons, and his feet carry him like a moth to a flame as the knot in his stomach begins to ease.

The door chimes when he enters and the barista offers him a warm smile as she waves. “Hey, Castiel,” she says brightly but her smile dims when she takes in his torn shirt and her gaze fixates on his aching jaw.

He self-consciously rubs his chin, willing away the bruise that must be starting to show. “Hey, Missy,” he says instead of answering her silent question. “The usual, please.” He takes a moment to inhale, savoring the rich aroma of freshly ground espresso and the tantalizing sugary smell wafting from the small pastry case.

He turns his attention to the array of picked over baked good with a sigh just for something to do while she pours his coffee.

Maybe if he acts normal, she won't ask about the fresh bruise and torn clothing.

No one really wants to know, anyway. That was something Cas had learned the hard way.

Words can be so pretty, but deep down, no one cares.

Not really.

“What happened?” Missy asks as she grabs a paper cup and pours the plain drip coffee.

Cas shrugs as he turns his attention watching the dark liquid fill his cup and wishing he could afford to splurge on something a bit nicer than half-stale, bottom of the pot, diner roast but this will have to do. “Some guys thought they could rob me.” That isn’t the whole truth, only part of it. The better truth would be they tried to rob him of services, not money.

Nobody cares if a whore cries rape.

Missy arches a brow as she hands over his cup and Cas deflects with a smirk. “Don’t worry, they didn’t get what they wanted.” He winks, or tries to at least.

The barista rolls her eyes but takes his crumpled ten with a tense smile and dutifully counts out his change. Castiel is certain that deep down, Missy knows what he does but she refuses to mention it. Whether out of discomfort or politeness, he doesn’t know or care.

As long as he gets his cheap coffee without scornful judgment, he’s happy.

“Thanks, Miss,” Cas says as he shoves a dollar into the tip jar and turns to leave.

“Take care of yourself, Cas,” she calls after him and he turns his head and waves goodbye.

He’s doing the best he can.

He lifts his cup to his lips and his eyes slide closed as he holds out an arm to push through the door as the chime sounds announcing a new customer.

“Whoa, shit man, sorry!” A voice comes and Cas’ feet don’t stop as suddenly as the rest of him does when he collides with a wall of muscle that sends his burning coffee cascading over his chest and down to the floor.

He holds his arms out and blinks owlishly as the hot liquid seeps through his thin shirt and burns the skin beneath. His breath goes ragged as he fights through the pain but he doesn’t cry out. That reflex had been trained out of him a long time ago.

“Fuck, here, let me,” the man scoots past him, snagging Cas’ wrist lightly to drag him back inside.

“Shit, Castiel, here,” Missy comes out from behind the counter with a handful of clean rags and begins dabbing at Cas’ chest.

Cas shakes his head, finally tearing his eyes away from the startling green of the man he collided with. He takes the towel from Missy and does his best to soak up the coffee from his stomach. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” he forces himself to apologize even as his mouth goes dry taking in the genuine concern of the man in front of him.

“Are you okay? I should have been looking where I was going, I didn’t even see you there, I’m so sorry,” the man rambles in his deep baritone as he rubs the back of his neck.

Pale freckles stand out against his blush and Cas can’t help but notice the perfect bow of his lips, parted ever so slightly in embarrassment.

“I’m fine. No harm done,” Cas says with a forced smile, shaking off his stunning observation of this unobservant stranger.

The man shakes his head. “At least let me buy you another drink.”

Cas narrows his eyes, scanning the man from his short mousy hair to boot covered toes but he finds little more than a nervous smile and hunched shoulders to complement the man’s perfect, classically handsome, physique.

And he still wants coffee.

“Uh, yeah. Sure,” Cas stammers as he hands the towels back to Missy.

“I’m Dean, by the way,” the man says as he holds out his hand for Castiel to take.

Cas swallows hard and tries not to frown as his heart patters wildly as he lets his gaze flit across the man’s plush lips and strong jaw. Cas licks his lips automatically and shoves aside his lewd thoughts.

He’s in a coffee shop, not working.

He has no business thinking about how much he would genuinely enjoy taking Dean on as a client. He swallows hard and realizes that he’s only making this more awkward the longer he stares. “Hello, Dean.” He takes Dean’s hand and carefully catalogs the touch. “I’m Castiel.”

Warm but calloused, Dean’s grip is firm, manly, but still tender in a way that makes Cas’ stomach squirm happily.

Cas swears his heart skips a beat when the man flashes him a smile.

“Castiel.” Dean’s eyes smile with him. “So, what are you having, Cas?”

Cas swallows hard as he takes his hand back. “Just the drip coffee…”

“Which we’re all out of,” Missy chimes in with a wink reserved only for Castiel.

Cas tilts his head curiously. He was sure the pot still had more in it but as he looks now, he sees that it is empty.

Dean chuckles and shakes his head. “Well, what’ll you have then?”

Cas stammers and gapes like a fish.

“Seriously man, anything you want,” Dean urges as he gestures toward the menu.

Cas sucks in a deep breath and shrugs. Dean is offering so he might as well go for it. “Uh, hazelnut cappuccino with an extra shot of espresso?” He says, glancing questioningly between Dean and Missy.

“Coming right up,” Missy says with a wink as she reaches for the milk. “And for you?”

Dean steps forward and licks his lips as he considers. “Same, actually.”

Missy grins. “Perfect.”

“So, Cas, what brings you in at this hour?” Dean asks as he scans Cas from head to toe, gaze lingering on the tear in Cas’ shirt and the bruise developing across his jaw.

Cas shrugs. “I work nights.”

Dean’s head tilts just slightly but Missy is calling up their drinks so he isn’t able to follow up on Cas’ answer. “Sit with me?” he asks instead after he pays and holds out a ceramic cup to Castiel.

Cas narrows his eyes at Missy but doesn’t comment on her shrug and shy smile. “I, uh,” Cas stammers, trying to find an excuse not to but he can’t find one quick enough. “Okay.” He swallows hard and tries to calm the nervous flutters in his belly.

Dean leads them to a table in the back and settles into the hard chair with a sigh.

Cas sits across from him and picks at the chipped laminate of the tabletop, not daring to meet Dean’s gaze.

“I really am sorry about running into you, I feel horrible,” Dean says as he pushes his untouched mug away.

Cas shrugs and he very nearly tells Dean that spilled coffee is far from the worst thing that’s happened to him today, but then he would have to tell Dean what he _does_ and he would prefer to avoid that conversation. He offers Dean a half-smile and holds up his mug. “It’s fine. You’ve more than made up for it.”

Dean nods and chews his lip. “So, uh, you said you work nights. What do you do?”

Cas’ heart seizes and his stomach drops. Of course, Dean would ask. Why wouldn’t he? Asking what someone does is a perfectly normal thing that normal people do. “I, uh, I stock shelves at the gas-n-sip,” Cas lies, hoping Dean doesn’t probe deeper.

“Dressed like that?” Dean arches a brow before he shakes his head. “Sorry, sorry. I don’t mean to question you.”

Cas’ stomach squirms even as he forces a soft smile. Pretending comes naturally to him, but for some reason Dean has him floundering like he hasn’t in years.

The man across from him looks so wholesome, so normal. He doesn’t deserve to be tainted by someone like Castiel. “What brings you in here this late?” Cas asks and swallows hard, unsure if he wants to know the answer.

Someone dressed as comfortably as Dean, in well broken in flannel and soft denim, who is still sober, is either a pimp or a cop.

And Cas would prefer to avoid both of those options.

Dean shrugs. “I just moved to town. Couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d go for a walk.”

“In this neighborhood?” Now it’s Castiel’s turn to raise his brow in question. _Bullshit._

Dean’s cheeks flush and he looks down at his coffee. “Like I said, I’m new to the area. I guess I didn’t realize…”

Cas chuckles, feeling suddenly lighter as he takes in Dean’s genuine awkwardness. “That this neighborhood is full of drunks and whores?” He asks, trying to keep his tone teasing but he can hear the edge to his voice and Dean flushes deeper. Adorable.

Dean sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I,” he starts to say but chews his lip instead of continuing. “If I tell you something, do you promise not to judge me?”

Dean's eyes are so wide and earnest that Cas can’t possibly deny him. He looks like a lost little boy that needs protecting and Cas’ heart aches at the thought. “I’m not in a position to be judgmental.”

Dean lets out a heavy breath and shakes his head. “I came down here to find a bar, but then I saw this place and remembered that my uncle’ll kick my ass if he found out.” Dean swallows hard. “I moved here to start over, not fall back into the same habits.”

Cas nods, seeing where Dean is leading. “Bad habits are hard to break,” Cas agrees as his hand reaches across the table to cover Dean’s without his permission.

He gets the feeling the man could use a little comfort, and Cas finds himself wanting to help.

Dean’s eyes widen but he doesn’t pull back as Cas squeezes and presses his thumb comfortingly against Dean’s wrist. Dean chews his lips and nods, gaze still fixated on where their hands are still touching. “Yeah, they are.”

Cas pulls in a deep breath and gives Dean his professional smile, the one that invites people to use him however they need.

“So, Dean, tell me about yourself,” Cas says softly as he strokes Dean’s hand before drawing back and wrapping his fingers around his mug. He watches Dean with a carefully soft smile and understanding eyes, coaxing Dean to bare his soul and open his mouth.

Dean huff a bitter laugh. “Not much to tell. I’m a mechanic, moved here from Kansas to start over about two months ago. This is the first time my uncle has let me out of his sight since…” he trails off with a self-deprecating sigh. “Dunno why I’m boring you with my sob story.” He shifts in his seat, sitting straighter as he lifts his gaze from his mug to meet Cas’ eyes. “What about you, Cas?”

Cas leans back in his seat and slowly brings his mug to his lips while regarding the handsome man carefully. “You’re not boring me. Sometimes, it’s just easier to talk to strangers. Fewer consequences that way.” Cas tries to wink again and he knows he failed by the way Dean’s lip quirks as he nods. “I moved here from Illinois with a friend about five years ago, hoping to start over too.” He might be willing to talk, but he isn’t going to tell Dean his entire story.

Not about how he got sick and couldn’t pay his hospital bills.

Not about how his parents cut him out of their lives when they found out he liked men a hell of a lot more than women.

And he most certainly is _not_ going to tell Dean how he’s been selling himself to keep a roof over his head and Meg’s.

Dean huffs again and shakes his head. “And how’s that going for you?”

Cas barks a laugh at Dean’s acrid tone and grins. “Would you believe that running into you has been the highlight of my day?”

Dean chuckles. “That bad, huh?” He takes a sip of his coffee and hisses at the burn sliding down his throat. He coughs slightly and shakes his head. “Here’s to new beginnings.” He holds his mug up as if giving a toast and Cas clinks their cups together with a wide smile.

“Cheers,” Cas replies and takes a deep drink, ignoring the lingering heat.

“Thanks for this, man,” Dean says, gesturing between them.

Cas shrugs with a faint smile. “Thank you for the coffee.”

They spend the next hour chatting about their lives, their childhoods, and siblings. Cas learns that Dean has a younger brother and an alcoholic father. Cas gives Dean a narrow-eyed look when he jokes that the apple didn’t fall from the tree and Dean swallows hard around his words before changing the subject.

By the time Missy comes to remind them that she’s closing in fifteen minutes, their cups are long empty and Cas’ belly is full of warm fuzzy feelings that he thought had shriveled up and died years ago.

Dean rubs the back of his neck as Missy takes away their cups and he chewed his lip in a way that makes Cas wish he could reach across the table and brush his thumb over the arch of Dean's cheek.

He flushes, wondering where these wayward thoughts were coming from. Dean seems nice. A little broken perhaps, but nice.

Nice people don't want anything to do with people like Cas.

“Can I see you again?” Dean blurts and his eyes widen comically. “I just, I don't have any friends here yet and ...”

It takes all of Cas’ will to not lean across the table and kiss the blush from Dean's cheek. Instead, he chuckles and shakes his head. “I understand, Dean.” He smirks and Dean reddens further.

Dean nods. “Right, uh, we should probably go.”

Cas glances at the clock in the wall and agrees. “My roommate should be getting home soon.”

They push from the table at the same time and Dean follows Cas to the door. “I wasn’t kidding about seeing you again,” Dean says as he leans slightly closer.

Missy locks the door behind them with a cheerful wave and Cas stuffs his hands into his too-tight pockets. “I can give you my phone number?” he offers with a shrug. He isn't going to let on how his heart patters in his chest at the thought of seeing Dean again.

Dean licks his lips as he meets Cas’ gaze and not for the first time, Cas is sure he’s never seen eyes more beautiful. Dean takes a half step closer, hand reaching out to touch Cas’ arm. “Phone number would be good.”

“Ok.” Cas swallows hard. He knows that look in Dean's eye, recognizes it from the countless times he’s had to lay down clear rules with his johns. Right now though, his breath catches and the faint stirrings of want swirl around his belly at the thought of feeling the press of Dean’s lips against his.

Dean's gaze flits to his mouth and Cas’ heart trembles as Dean leans closer.

Suddenly, Cas’ fingers are splayed across Dean's chest and he's pushing the man back gently like he knows he needs to. “I can't.” Cas shakes his head and holds Dean back.

Dean’s sharp intake of breath is audible even through the sudden shield of his hand over his mouth as he scrubs his stubbled jaw. “Shit, was I reading something wrong? I am so sorry,” Dean’s voice drops to a pleading whimper and Cas’ stomach twists as he shakes his head.

“It isn’t that. I just, I can’t.” Cas’ eyes slide closed as he drops his hand. “You don’t want someone like me.” And Dean doesn’t. Cas knows better than anyone how someone in his position will never be seen as anything other than the whore he is.

Dean huffs. “Someone like you?” His tone is disbelieving and Cas’ heart sinks.

Three simple words would make Dean understand, but they refuse to pass his lips. He _likes_ Dean, he doesn’t want to lose the potential friendship.

No.

Dean can’t find out.

“Someone like me,” Cas says, agreeing even though he can’t bring himself to meet Dean’s eyes. He stares down the street, in the direction of the barely habitable apartment he shares with Meg. “I need to go.”

Dean reaches out and snags Cas’ wrist. “I was serious when I said I needed friends,” he says, offering a timid smile.

Cas can’t help his hopeful smile. “Yeah?”

Dean nods and lets him go as Cas digs in his pocket for his cheap little flip phone. “Dude, I haven’t seen a phone like that in a decade.”

Cas shrugs. “It’s cheap. Here, put your number in.” He hands it over and watches the way Dean chews his lips as his fingers poke at the tiny buttons. Eventually, Dean hands the phone back and Cas quickly sends him a text. “Did you get it?” He asks just as Dean’s phone chimes.

Dean grins as he quickly saves Cas’ number in his iPhone. “Awesome.”

“Text or call me anytime, Dean,” Cas says as he starts to back away with a smile playing on his lips.

“Seeya, Cas,” Dean calls as he turns to head in the other direction.

Cas can’t help the smile that refuses to dim as he makes his way home.

For a night that started as complete shit, it ended pretty damn nice.


	2. The day that can only get worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is having a wonderful day, too bad Cas' doesn't end the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***WARNING***
> 
> I'm going to add a chapter warning for those who may be sensitive to dub-con or non-con. It isn't, but I feel the situation could still be triggering to some people.
> 
> If you don't mind, carry on and avoid potential spoilers.
> 
> If you do, read this and decide what's best for you. 
> 
> Cas has a customer with a unique request that he isn't overly comfortable with but he does it anyway, for the money. If you're concerned, stop reading when Cas is approached by someone in his alley. 
> 
> I want you all to be happy and healthy, so please take care of yourselves as needed ❤️

Dean hums to himself as he waits for his toast to pop, fingers drumming idly on the worn countertop in the garage’s grease-stained breakroom.

“Watching ain’t gonna make it burn faster,” Bobby grumbles as he sweeps past Dean to get to the coffee pot. “You seem awfully awake for this hour.” He glares at Dean over the rim of his coffee mug with distrust reflected in the set of his shoulders.

Dean deflates and lets out a stifled breath through his nose. “I told you, Bobby. I was just out for coffee.”

Bobby huffs. “I’m tryin to believe you, boy, but I’m sure you understand…”

“Christ,” Dean exclaims and runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I’m trying here, okay.”

Bobby claps Dean on the shoulder and squeezes. “I know, son. I know.”

Dean sighs, fighting against the simmering urge to walk out and drown himself in the nearest bottle. Two months.

He’s only been here for two months.

He’s only been sober for a month longer than that and his hands still tremble in the mornings, his body fighting to convince him to indulge in the oh-so-familiar fuel.

He closes his eyes and sucks in a deep breath to settle himself.

“Got a full day for you, half a dozen oil changes, and then a Shelby with some transmission troubles. You good for it?” Bobby questions, reaching around Dean to snag a piece of his toast.

“Yeah,” Dean mutters as he scrubs a hand over his scruff. “I’m good.”

Bobby rakes his assessing gaze over Dean from head to toe before giving a decisive nod. “Good. Ellen’s expectin you for supper. Don’t be late.”

Dean nods and swallows hard. “Yes sir.”

The work is good, it keeps the simmering need to lose himself at bay but he still wonders what his new friend is up to every time he has a moment to let his mind wander. The hours fly by and the sweat of honest work helps him to breathe a little bit easier with each job he finishes.

When Bobby comes to remind him to sit his ass down and eat some lunch, he’s elbow deep in the guts of an old junker that some fool with more money than sense thinks is worth fixing. He’s glad to leave the rusted mess behind to finish later and he scrubs as much grease from his hands as he can manage before picking up his phone and giving in to the urge to try out the newest number in his phone.

 _To Cas:_ _Hey man, this is Dean. From last night._

He sets his phone down while he waits for his takeout from two days ago to reheat. He watches the paper plate full of lo-mein noodles spin round and round with the gentle hum of the microwave to keep him company.

His phone vibrates on the counter and he reaches for it just as the microwave beeps.

_To Dean: Hello, Dean._

Dean grins as he reads Cas’ response and then chews his lip as he decides what to say.

_To Cas: I had a good time last night_

He immediately curses himself. His words make it sound like he was treating their meeting as a date. Something Cas made it clear he wasn’t looking for.

_To Dean: So did I. Thank you for the coffee and the company._

Dean smiles down at his phone as he picks at his noodles. Cas seems so formal and he can’t help but find his awkwardness adorable.

 _To Cas:_ _How’s your jaw?_

Dean remembers watching Cas’ cheek and jaw shift from the irritated red of a fresh punch into the faint blue of a deepening bruise as they sat. He can only imagine the man is sore this morning.

_To Dean: It’s fine._

Dean can almost see Cas’ dismissive shrug. They may have only spoken for a little less than two hours, but Cas is easy enough to read. Dean hadn’t needed to look very closely to see the simple disregard Cas has for his own well-being.

The look is a familiar one, after all.

_To Cas: If you say so. Looked like a pretty good hit though. I’d hate to see the other guy. lol._

_To Dean: They got what was coming to them._

They? THEY? Cas hadn’t mentioned there had been more than one. He can tell the dude is tough, strongly built, and well-muscled, but taking on more than one mugger in a poorly lit alley is either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.

Dean stabs some steaming noodles with his fork and shoves them in his mouth unceremoniously. “Fuck!” He spits them out and takes a quick gulp of the cold soda Bobby had picked up for him from the gas station next door. The scorch on his tongue fades, but he’s certain there is going to be very little left of his taste buds.

It’s just as well.

The noodles taste like a refrigerator.

_To Cas: You didn’t tell me there was more than one_

_To Dean: There were three._

Three?! Dean’s eyes widen and he nearly chokes on his soda. His fingers drum on the table as he shakes his head.

_To Cas: Remind me not to pick a fight with you_

_To Dean: Don’t pick a fight with me._

Dean barks a laugh just as Bobby comes around the corner and gives him a quizzical look. “Sorry, new friend.”

Bobby nods with a grunt. “That guy you were getting coffee with?”

Dean narrows his eyes as he searches Bobby’s tone for signs of doubt before he nods. “Yeah. The one I literally ran into and spilled coffee all over.”

Bobby snorts and shakes his head. “It’s a wonder he’s still willing to talk to ya then.”

Dean huffs and shoves another forkful off noodles into his mouth. “Shuddup.”

_To Cas: Noted_

Dean finishes his lunch and gets back to work, stomach feeling lighter than it has since he and Cas parted ways last night. The rest of the day passes quickly and Dean whistles to himself right through the transmission work, which turned out to be a simple seal that needed replacing, and the short hike up the stairs to the small apartment Bobby is renting him above the garage.

He strips out of his coveralls on the way into his bathroom and leaves them in a heap just outside the door.

He’s not trying to impress anyone.

His undershirt and boxers get the same treatment and he sets the shower as hot as it will go even as his thoughts continue to drift toward Cas.

His knees remind him that he isn’t eighteen anymore when he crouches under the shower spray to rinse the suds from his hair, but the water is hot and helps keeps his mind from drifting down the road he swore off when he dragged his sorry ass all the way out here from Kansas.

This is all more than he deserves after all the shit he’s pulled, but he isn’t about to ask too many questions.

Still, the niggling feeling remains in his gut when he steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist. He stares down at his hands, watching them tremble of their own accord. His swallow gets caught in his throat and a sudden surge of nausea has him clenching eyes and grabbing for the edge of the counter just for something to hold onto. “Dammit,” he winces as he hangs his head over the sink and focuses on his breathing.

In and out, slowly.

Twelve weeks and three days.

This is the longest he’s gone without a drink since he turned thirteen and he’s still hit with cravings that come out of nowhere.

He’s come this far, he isn’t going back.

This is his one and only life. It may be wild, but he’s taking it back from the clutches of what he’s come to understand is a disease. He made the casual and easy choice to start drinking and he made the nearly impossible choice to stop.

He forces himself upright and swipes at the fog covering his mirror to stare himself in the eyes. The man staring back at him is someone he wouldn’t have even thought of imagining a handful of months ago. Clear-eyed, present.

Struggling.

“This is _my_ choice,” he mutters to himself as he finishes wiping the water from his skin. “This is _my_ life,” he continues as he tugs on his best jeans. “I am _not_ my father.” The familiar mantra helps his racing heart slow as he shrugs into a decent flannel button-down that he leaves open over the well-loved band t-shirt that Sam had gotten him for Christmas the year before he left for Stanford.

The ache in his heart is fierce when his thoughts turn to his floppy-haired brother. So many regrets shoved down and ignored for years while he chased the bottom of a bottle. Sam’s smile could light up a room and his happy laughter had always managed to brighten Dean’s day.

Dean thought his drinking was an escape from their shitty life and the things he had to do to make sure Sam was fed and clothed when their father disappeared for weeks at a time. He never saw a problem with his method of coping until Sam had shaken his head in disappointment and walked out of Dean’s life.

Sam tried. He had begged him to go too, with tears streaming down his reddened cheeks before he wiped his snotty nose on his shirt sleeve.

Dean sighs and scrubs a hand over his scruff.

He couldn’t go, couldn’t leave their father.

He should have gone.

He eyes his phone, thinking about how good it would be to hear Sam’s voice, but he shakes his head before he can press the button that would make the call.

The lingering dread in his gut is hard to swallow around, creating a lump in his throat as he lets out a heavy breath.

Sam probably wouldn’t answer anyway.

Still, he picks up his phone and his thumb hovers over Sam’s contact. Bobby had put Sam’s new number in Dean’s phone and told Dean to call him.

He shakes his head and chews his lip, opening the text thread with Castiel instead.

 _To Cas:_ _What are you up to tonight?_

When Cas’ response isn’t forthcoming, Dean ignores the whiskey drunk voice in his head telling him that he doesn’t deserve anything good in his life and pockets his phone before heading out the door.

His father can shove it.

By the time he pulls up in front of Bobby and Ellen’s modest house just outside the city, Cas still hasn’t responded, and Dean tells himself that the man is probably just busy. Everything is _fine._

“Dean,” Ellen says with a welcoming smile as she opens the door to his knock.

“Hey, Ellen.” Dean smiles back and lets himself be dragged into her warm hug. He folds his arms around her and holds on tight, breathing in the familiar scent her shampoo and letting the sense of _home_ wash over him.

For as stubborn as Bobby can be and as harsh as Ellen is when she needs to be, they’re the closest thing to parents he’s had since his mother died when he was four.

“You’re late,” Bobby grumbles from his chair in front of the television, and Dean rolls his eyes.

“You said seven. It’s 6:55, old man. I ain’t late,” Dean calls before kissing Ellen on the cheek. “Anything I can do to help?” He meets her eyes easily, beyond glad that she knows his demons and won’t take any shit from him.

“You can sit your ass down at the table.” She points in the general direction of the dining room. “And you too, Bobby. Soups on.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Dean recites as he breezes past. He grabs a beer for Bobby and does his best to pretend that he doesn’t want one for himself. A fresh pitcher of lemonade sits beside Bobby’s beer and he grabs that instead. “Here ya go, Bobby.” Dean hands off the beer to the older man and snags a glass out of the cupboard for his lemonade.

“Thanks, boy. You sure you good with this?” Bobby holds up the bottle in question and Dean shrugs.

“Gonna have to learn to deal with it, figure this is a good place to start.” Dean fills his glass and put the lemonade back. “Ellen, drink?”

“Beer please,” Ellen says as she pulls a stack of plates out of the cupboard.

Dean grabs one for her too despite the way his stomach twists itself into knots as his fingers close around the glass neck of the brown bottle. He plasters on his best smile as he twists the top for her and hands it off before the sweet scent of malt and hops can hit his nose.

“Bobby tells me you made a friend,” Ellen comments as she hands Dean a plate to fill.

Dean’s cheeks heat and he’s certain his blush reddens his face all the way to his ears. “We met last night, had a cup of coffee. Not sure that qualifies as a friend.”

Ellen hums and Bobby snorts.

“Shoulda seen him at lunch, grinning like a damn fool.” Bobby fills his plate after Dean and soon, the three of them settle at the table.

“Was not,” Dean gripes with a narrow-eyed glare.

Ellen snorts and takes a bite of her potatoes. “New friend or not, I’m still happy for you.”

“Thank you,” Dean nods as he points at her with his fork before tucking into his pork chops.

The sound of knives and forks scraping on plates and muffled chewing takes the place of conversation as they clear their plates, and it isn’t until after the pie is devoured and Ellen kicks them out of her kitchen that Bobby broaches the subject Dean has been dreading.

“You call your brother yet?” Bobby asks with an arched brow as the two of them settle into old rocking chairs on the back porch.

Dean swipes his thumb through the sweat on his lemonade before taking a long drink to buy himself a little time. “Not yet.”

Bobby huffs. “Why the hell not?”

Dean sighs and shakes his head with a frown. “He doesn’t wanna talk to me, Bobby, not after the shit I pulled.”

“You don’t know that,” Bobby disagrees.

“I do though. He made it plenty clear when he left that he was done with me.” Dean thinks back to that night. He barely remembers through the whiskey induced haze, but he knows it was a month after Sam graduated from high school, when he broke the news about leaving for Stanford.

 _Come with me and start over, D,_ Sam had begged but Dean refused to leave. Finally, Sam had given him an ultimatum that Dean stubbornly refused. _Quit drinking and come to California or we’re done._

Sam was gone before Dean woke the next morning, his room cleared out like he never existed in the first place.

“Damn stubborn idgit, that was four years ago. You don’t think that he misses you?” Bobby takes a swig from his nearly empty bottle and sets it aside. Dean’s gaze tracks the motion and his breath hitches with how hard Bobby’s words hit.

Dean lets out a heavy breath through his nose, the sound cutting through the quiet nighttime air serves as little more than an outward manifestation of Dean’s shame. “I got nothin to show him, Bobby. I need more time to get my feet under me.”

Bobby claps him on the shoulder and shakes his head sadly. “Boy, you’ve had time and you got your feet under you. Sam’d be glad just to have his brother back. You’re tryin, that’s all he ever wanted from you.” With those words, Bobby pushes out of his chair and collects his bottle, taking care to empty it before meandering back inside.

Dean’s eyes slide closed as he breathes in slowly. The air here is different than home, heavier somehow. He silently blames the pollution, but it might just be the ocean. Who knows?

Certainly someone smarter than him.

His pocket buzzes and Dean finds himself reaching for his phone without a second thought. Something in his chest unclenches when he sees Cas’ name pop up with the incoming text. He nearly fumbles his phone in his haste to open the thread but his smile falters when he reads.

_To Dean: Sorry I didn’t respond earlier. I was sleeping. To answer your question, I’m working tonight._

Dean chews his lip and glances at the time.

_To Cas: What time do you get off?_

Cas’ response is slow to come and Dean is sure he’s being an idiot by putting so much value on this barely-there acquaintanceship. He taps the corner of his phone on his thigh as he chews his lip, nearly ready to text Cas and tell him to never mind.

 _To Dean:_ _Around four if the night goes well._

Dean’s eyes widen. How does somewhere as small as the Gas-n-sip take so long to stock? Cas must be the only one doing the job for it to take that long. He chews his lip some more while he tries to decide what to say next.

_To Cas: That’s really late. I gotta be up for work at 5. Will you still be up then?_

_To Dean: I am likely to still be awake at 5. Shall I text you good morning?_

Dean absolutely does not squeak and his heart remains perfectly calm. Mostly.

Still, he swallows hard and fights the grin threatening to take over his features before deciding to take a chance.

_To Cas: I would like that_

_To Dean: I look forward to talking with you then. Sleep well._

Dean sighs happily and sinks into the unforgiving wooden chair.

 _To Cas:_ _Have a good night at work_ _😊_

Cas doesn’t respond and Dean stares out at Bobby’s backyard with a sense of peace settling over him that he hasn’t felt in years. Maybe not ever.

The stars sparkle above him since he light pollution from the city doesn’t make it out as far as Bobby’s house and for the first time since he promised himself to get sober, he feels like he’s going to make it.

\--- Meanwhile ---

Cas drops his phone onto his mattress with a sigh. A good night at work.

Sure.

He huffs and shakes his head before squeezing himself into a t-shirt that is at least a size too small and his working jeans that hug his ass just right but aren’t too much trouble to lower when he needs to.

A knife goes into his boot and another into his pocket, the clip hanging low so the blade is invisible unless someone knows to look.

His hair is a perpetual mess that only works in his favor, so he ruffles it some more and doesn’t bother with any product.

It won’t be long until someone messes it up anyway.

Meg is waiting for him with a single pill held in the palm of her hand. “Something to take the edge off?”

Cas stares longingly at the small capsule and chews his lip before reaching out to take her offering. “Thanks,” he mutters as he down the pill with a tall glass of water.

Together, they walk arm and arm to the alley where they split up. Cas continues on alone, weaving through the narrow streets toward his usual place about half a block past a gay bar.

The gentle thump of the bass from a club down the street provides a tempo to tap his foot to in the dark alley where only a night ago he was attacked. He gave thought to moving his spot, but his regulars know to look for him here and he doesn’t want to risk losing them.

They treat him decently and pay well.

His stomach flutters anxiously as he waits, leaning his elbow against the warm brick with a hand on his cocked hip. The ground here is perpetually damp and the air reeks vaguely of trash, but all in all, it isn’t a bad spot.

He doesn’t want to give it up.

Still, he scans his surroundings as his nerves turn to jitters and it isn’t long until he notices someone sizing him up.

He flashes his most seductive smile and bites his lip as he rakes his gaze over the other man. He looks to be at least a decade older than him, pushing forty with the beer belly to show for it but he still flushes and drops his gaze when he notices Castiel’s gaze.

Cas steps forward and he can see the moment when the man decides to approach. He’s tall, taller than Cas, and far more muscled despite his gut. “Anything I can do for you, handsome?” Cas drawls, his tone honey-sweet and sticky.

The sandy-haired man sucks in a deep breath and gives a curt nod that Cas takes as permission.

He reaches out to run a single finger down the man’s chest toward the buckle of his belt where he toys with the leather under the man’s watchful gaze.

“How…how much?” The stranger stammers as Cas flutters his lashes.

The Ecstasy has filtered its way into his system, creating a sense of giddy excitement that makes him smile easier and meet the man’s gaze confidently as he cocks his hip seductively. He leans closer, needing to stand on his tiptoes to reach the man’s ear where he whispers, “depends on what you want, sugar.”

The stranger swallows hard and internally, Cas cheers. He knows a done deal when he sees one. “D…do you roleplay?”

Cas hums as if giving the man’s request deep consideration as he trails his single finger just a little bit lower, resting over the bulge at the front of the man’s jeans. “What do you have in mind?” He purrs.

The man chews his lip and glances around before crowding into Castiel’s space. Warning bells start to chime in his mind but he holds his ground, determined to see where this is going. “What about a rape fantasy?”

Cas’ eyes widen and he takes a step back as he shakes his head as he gives the man another wary once over.

The man holds his hands up placatingly. “I’m not talking about anything real, I swear. I don’t want to hurt you or anyone else.” His brown eyes are wide and earnest but that does little to calm the spike of adrenaline in Cas’ veins.

“Then what do you want?” Cas forces himself to ask around the cotton coating his tongue.

The man cocks a smile that is nowhere near convincing. “I wanna overpower someone. I want them to struggle and fight while I fuck them, beg me to stop.”

Cas tilts his head, a sick feeling swirling in his stomach. “You want a willing victim.”

The man nods and reaches behind himself in a way that has Cas reaching for the knife in his pocket but he breathes out heavily when the man merely pulls out a fat leather wallet. “How much for something like that?”

Cas huffs and shakes his head, his better sense telling him to walk away but he needs the money. He chews his lip. “Six hundred.” He throws out a ridiculous number, expecting the man to scoff and walk away. “And I don’t fuck without condoms.”

Something like relief flashes across the man’s features and he nods as he opens his wallet. “Six hundred,” he says as he holds out a fistful of bills. “And I mean really fight back, try to stop me.”

Cas sucks in a breath, still uncertain about the situation but six hundred dollars is almost a month’s rent on their shitty apartment. For one fuck, that would be well worth it.

He hopes.

“Okay,” he says hesitantly as he reaches for the money. “Just, turn around and give me a minute.”

The man nods and takes a few respectful steps back before turning as requested while Cas tucks his payment away behind the loose brick in the building wall that no one would notice unless they already knew where it was.

“Okay,” Cas forces himself to say and the man turns with a predatory gleam in his eye. Cas instinctively takes a step back which only serves to spur the man’s appetite. Cas plays his part well, he barely needs to pretend as the other man stalks toward him. He turns to run but strong arms quickly circle around his waist and Cas thrashes and tries to scream as he’s manhandled against the wall and pinned by the base of his neck.

Cas fights, stomping his feet and crying out (soft enough to not draw attention, of course), but the man is truly stronger and it isn’t long until he gets Cas’ jeans shoved down over his hips.

The pressure on the back of his neck eases and Cas spins, lashing out with his hands but his jeans threaten to trip him and keep him off balance enough for his john to kick his feet out from under him.

Cas falls to his knees, the rough concrete bruising but not damaging and the man shoves his head down, forcing his bare ass into the air. Cas pleads and begs, tears welling in his eyes as this starts to feel too real. He hears the rip of a condom wrapper before blunt pressure presses at his opening and the grip around the back of his neck tightens.

The man mutters degrading filth as he plows into Cas over and over, the pace brutal and nearly feral.

Real tears stream down Cas’ cheeks as he sobs, still trying to do his part to escape and beg for mercy. His stomach twists, hating every second of this but he reminds himself of the money and endures.

Finally, the man plunges in roughly as deep as he’ll go and stills. Cas can feel him pulsing inside the condom and he takes a shuddering breath as he tries to calm down.

This was just a business transaction. Nothing more.

He’s _fine._

“Fuck, that was perfect.” The man pulls out and rips off the condom, leaving Cas curled on the concrete as he tucks himself back into his pants. “Hey, you okay?” He crouches down and his brows furrow as he takes in Cas’ tear-streaked face.

Cas sniffs and nods as he forces himself to stand and pull his pants up. “I’m good.”

The man nods. “Damn right you are. Worth every penny.”

Cas huffs bitterly but forces a smile.

“Thanks, man,” The stranger says as he turns and meanders away, leaving Cas alone in the darkness once again.

“Fuck,” Cas sighs as he scrubs a hand over his face.

This is going to be a long night that even the drugs coursing through him can’t help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts? I'd love to hear from you.


	3. The day that the sun begins to shine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sundays are Castiel's favorite day of the week. This one is no exception, especially when he hears from Dean.

“Who’s that?” Meg asks when Cas’ phone goes off, cereal spoon freezing halfway to her mouth as she gawks in surprise.

“A friend.” Cas steps across the tiny kitchen as he scratches idly at the thin trail of hair low on his bare stomach. Only two people would text him and one is sitting in the room.

Meg arches a brow. “A friend? She sets her spoon down and scans Cas from his bare shoulders to his bare feet. “You? Mister _My heart is cold as ice and I don’t need anyone_?”

Cas quirks a smile as he butters the bread for his sandwich and sips his tea. “I never said that.”

Meg huffs and shakes her head. “You’re smiling.” Her eyes narrow and she lifts a brow. “I know it’s Sunday, but who are you and what have you done with my little Angel?”

Cas barks a laugh and shakes his head fondly.

Sunday is their favorite day. The one day of the week they decide to stay home and not walk the streets in search of customers.

Sunday clients are the worst anyway.

Something about sitting in church and being filled with the Lord’s word inspires them to become self-righteous assholes who like to make use of their services but somehow think they’re above paying for them.

Cas has been gifted with more than one bloody lip from a well-dressed man with gleaming shoes and crucifix around his neck.

Or, better yet, they’ll pay and then spend their journey to orgasm spewing degrading filth and ensuring that sex workers cannot forget their damnation.

Either way, the money to be made on Sunday nights isn’t worth the trouble.

Meg fixes him with a frown and shakes her head, dragging him out of his thoughts. “You don’t have any friends.” Meg glares as she sets her spoon down.

Cas rolls his eyes and folds his arms over his bare chest as he waits until his grilled cheese sandwich is ready to turn. “Cereal isn’t lunch food.” He stares pointedly at the bowl in front her, half-full of tiny soggy rings and watered-down milk.

Meg huffs and points her spoon at him. “It’s my first meal of the day. Hence, breakfast. And don’t change the subject.”

Cas flips his sandwich and ignores Meg’s glare. “We met at the coffee shop. He literally spilled coffee all over me.” He carefully leaves out that it was _his_ coffee Dean spilled as he sips from his mug of tea.

“You didn’t tell me that,” Meg hums knowingly anyway.

Cas shrugs. “You were tired when you got home.”

“That was three days ago,” she says, impatience bleeding into her tone. “And why are you still stopping for that cheap crap?”

“I deserve one small luxury, Meg,” Cas protests as he wipes his hands on his boxers out of habit. His sandwich reaches golden-brown perfection and he slides it from the pan and onto his plate before quickly turning the coiled burner off and filling a clean glass with water from the tap.

Meg huffs. “I don’t know how you can call that dollar bullshit a luxury, _Clarence._ ” She shovels another spoonful of off-brand cheerios into her mouth. “Besides, it’s not like we can’t afford a decent cup of coffee for you now and then.”

Cas sighs as he settles at the table. He’s been making this same sandwich every Sunday since they moved into this apartment. Store brand white bread off the discount shelf and even worse American singles that taste more like plastic than cheese. They melt well though, perfectly gooey and he can pretend it’s just like mom used to make.

If he closes his eyes.

“Tell that to the rent,” he grumbles, already hating that he _knows_ his coffee habit is hurting them. Even if it is only a dollar. He takes a bite of his sandwich and hums with satisfaction as the gooey cheese coats his tongue.

“Anyway. Back to this mystery man. Who is he?” Meg lifts the bowl to her lips to slurp down the extra milk.

“His name is Dean,” Cas says between bites. He chews slowly, buying himself time and he swallows hard under Meg’s harsh stare. “He’s a mechanic, just moved into the area.”

“He know what you do?” Meg asks with an arched brow.

Cas lets out a heavy breath and shakes his head. “No.”

Meg nods knowingly and Cas squirms in his seat.

“He doesn’t need to know,” Cas says as he picks up his phone to read Dean’s newest message. “He wants to meet for dinner.” His smile falls and he looks to Meg with wide eyes. “What am I going to tell him?”

Meg shrugs. “Do you like him?”

“I think so,” Cas says, the tender flame of interest flickering back to life deep in his stomach when he remembers their almost kiss. How badly he wants something for himself instead of the money.

“Then let him take you out. Date him if you want.” Meg shrugs as if there isn’t an inherent problem with that idea.

Cas’ stomach plummets and he shakes his head. “I can’t _date_ him. No one wants to date a whore.”

“He doesn’t need to know,” Meg says with a shrug.

Cas shakes his head. “I can’t do that to him.” He’ll just have to tell Dean that he can’t afford to go out. He told Dean that he was a stock boy at the gas station. That is an even worse paying job than what he really does. Dean will have to understand.

“Your loss,” Meg says with a shrug as she pushes up from the table. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going back to sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cas waves her off. “Sleep well.” He watches her go, stomach churning with unease when he notices the way her shoulders hunch and she reaches for the wall to steady herself. He sucks in a deep breath through his nose and does his best to shove his feelings aside.

Meg made it clear she doesn’t want to talk about it, but every day he struggles harder to obey her wishes.

He stares at his phone for a few minutes after Meg disappears, trying to decide what to tell Dean. He’d like to see the man, but he can’t lie to him.

Finally, he picks up the phone with a sigh and begins to type.

_To Dean: Hello, Dean. I would love to meet you for dinner, but I already have plans. Maybe we can meet up some other time._

After what feels like an eternity pushing buttons, he hits send and waits, hoping that Dean doesn’t take his rejection the wrong way.

A few moments pass and Cas pushes to his feet to take care of his dishes. Just because they’re broke doesn’t mean they can’t be tidy.

At least, _he_ can be tidy. Meg is beyond hope.

Finally, his phone buzzes and he can’t reach for it fast enough.

_To Cas: No problem. Some other time then._

Cas chews his lip, doing his best to read between the lines and he’s typing before he can stop himself.

_To Dean: What are you doing this afternoon?_

Dean’s response is almost immediate.

_To Cas: Sitting around in my boxers watching Dr. Sexy._

Cas chuckles at the image before he groans internally at the thought of Dean with so few clothes. He can only imagine the feel of those defined muscles under his fingertips and the delightful sounds Dean might take as he uses his skills to take the man apart with his tongue.

He takes a shuddering breath and shakes his head with a scowl. He has no business imagining Dean in that kind of situation and he closes his eyes with a groan to banish the thoughts.

_To Dean: Take a walk with me?_

He chews his lip and presses send, nervous butterflies flitting around in his gut as he waits.

Luckily, Dean doesn’t make him wait very long.

_To Cas: Yeah?_

_To Dean: Yeah._

_To Cas: Okay. When and where?_

Cas grins and shifts from foot to foot as he takes a moment to think.

_To Dean: A half-hour at the boardwalk?_

_To Cas: I’m not sure where that is?_

He chews his lip as he debates just having Dean pick him up. He knows the area well enough, and honestly, he doesn’t care where they go. Just the thought of getting outside of his life for a little while and doing something _normal_ with someone like Dean has him nearly bouncing in place.

_To Dean: Do you have a car? You could just pick me up at the coffee shop?_

_To Cas: Do I have a car?_

_Only the most beautiful car ever created :-D_

Cas chuckles and meanders toward his bedroom to find something more to wear than his boxers. He isn’t working today so he can wear something that’s actually comfortable and he reaches for his favorite pair of slim-cut but not tight jeans that have holes in the pockets and a rip at the knee. They’re ratty, but he isn’t trying to seduce Dean.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to look good.

_To Cas: I’ll be there in 30_

Cas smiles down at his phone as he types out quick _see you then_ and sends it off before turning toward his closet. He picks out a shirt emblazoned with the AC/DC logo that he picked up at the secondhand store and shrugs it on.

The shirt is just a little too big and with his old jeans, the outfit gives off either a broke as fuck vibe or an artfully distressed look.

He hopes Dean finds the look less hobo and more intentional.

He quickly runs his fingers through his hair, not bothering to try and tame the mess that refuses to settle and he ignores his day-old stubble.

It’s his day off.

He is _not_ shaving.

“Hey, Meg?” He raps his knuckles on his roommate’s door and listens for her irritated grumble. “I’m going out for a bit.”

“Text me the details,” Meg calls back, her voice groggy but Cas smiles anyway.

He pockets his phone on his way to the door, he’ll text Meg the details when has them.

His nose wrinkles when he steps into the hall and locks the door behind him. The normal mildew smell from ancient carpet saturated by years of humidity is now overlaid with a mixture of burnt popcorn and the skunky stench of pot.

One would think that his neighbors would get the hang of microwave popcorn after burning it every single day, but here they are, stinking up the entire building.

Again.

He thunders down the stairs in his haste to escape the throat clogging stench and he bursts through the front door in near-record time. The San Francisco heat has long since settled in for the day but Cas still breathes deep lungfuls of the fresher air.

He quickly makes his way to the small coffee shop where he first ran into Dean. Missy is off today, so Cas waits outside with his hands in his pockets. The rough brick of the building scratches his back and he does a little shimmy to enjoy the sensation. The sun warms his upturned face pleasantly, the corners of his lips curling upward automatically as he soaks up the light.

His mind wanders as he waits, wishing he had more time to spend in the sun rather than the cover of darkness. The world is different in the light and if half of the people passing by him knew what he did for a living, they would probably cross the street and shield their children from his sight.

He wouldn’t blame them either.

The gentle rumble of an engine has him straightening and he steps forward out of instinct when a black beast of a car stops on the curb. He dips down, careful to keep his back in a straight line to catch a glimpse of the driver and a wide smile spreads across his face when he takes in Dean’s grin.

The door opens with a small creak and he drops himself into the passenger seat without an invitation. “Hello, Dean,” he says as he settles into the leather seat.

“Heya, Cas. Been waiting long?” Dean asks, not bothering to put the car into gear quite yet.

Cas shakes his head. “Only a few minutes. How have you been?” He looks over to Dean and meets those perfectly green eyes for the first time today and he wonders how he managed the last three days without seeing them.

His stomach flops happily even as he tries to clamp down on the nervous excitement working its way through his veins.

“Been good. Bobby’s been workin my ass off.” Dean palms the steering wheel and his gaze grows distant as he stares ahead. “He was waitin for me when I got home the other night, convinced I had been out drinking.”

Cas’ brows lift as he stares and shakes his head. “You didn’t mention that…” And Dean hadn’t despite the numerous texts they’ve exchanged in the last few days.

Most of their conversation has been lighthearted and silly, helping Cas dig a deeper and deeper hole where his budding feelings are concerned.

Dean shrugs. “Didn’t wanna dump too much on you. Anyway, he musta smelled the coffee on my breath and figured I was tellin the truth.”

Cas tilts his head and his brows furrow as he stares. “But you weren’t acting drunk.”

Dean huffs a laugh. “Never been around an alcoholic, have ya, Cas? A lot of us are damn good at hiding it. But I've been sober over 90 days, don’t wanna screw that up, ya know?”

Cas nods even as his lips curl into a proud smile. “You’re doing really well, Dean.”

Dean huffs and shakes his head. “I feel like this is my last chance. I can’t fuck it up again.”

Cas tilts his chin and looks at Dean, _really_ looks at him. His eyes sag slightly and his smile is tired but underneath all that still lurks the vibrancy of youth. “Sounds like we’re both a little bit broken.”

Dean shakes his head. “You ain’t broken, Cas.”

Now it’s Cas’ turn to huff and he picks at the hole over his knee. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“I’m looking forward to learning,” Dean flashes him a tight smile and he reaches hesitantly toward Cas before quickly drawing back and returning his hands to the wheel as he clears his throat awkwardly. “Anyway, where we headed?”

Cas swallows hard and avoids Dean’s gaze. “Have you been to Marshall’s Beach yet? It’s down by the Golden Gate.”

Dean shakes his head. “Tell me the way.” He shifts the car into gear as Cas pulls the seatbelt across his lap.

The ride is quiet other than Castiel’s directions. Living in San Francisco for so long has made him familiar with the city that he rarely bothers to explore. His life has become one endless loop of walking the streets after dark and sleeping the day away.

He drums his fingers on his thigh, remembering all the hopes and dreams he once had for his life before he was thrown out of his parent’s house at fifteen. With a little help from Gabe, he did alright at first, managing to finish high school while lying about his age to get a job.

College was incredible.

Until halfway through his junior year and he made an insurmountable mistake.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice cuts through his memories and Cas startles. “Where’d you go just now?” Dean’s tone is light but Cas can sense the undercurrent of genuine curiosity.

He shakes his head and lets out a heavy breath. “Just thinking about how much I miss going out like this.” It isn’t a lie.

Dean nods as he makes the turn into the parking lot of the small beach. “You don’t drive, I take it?”

Cas shakes his head. “No. Never got my license.”

Dean’s eyes widen and he all but slams on the brakes. “You don’t have a license?”

Cas shrugs. “I’ve been on my own since I was fifteen, Dean. Never really had the time for something like that.”

Dean gapes, still staring. “But what about now? You’re what, early 20s?”

Cas laughs bitterly and shakes his head. “Until six months ago I was homeless, I had bigger concerns. And I’m 28, by the way. But thanks for thinking I’m younger.”

Dean gapes some more and shakes his head. “Damn, man. I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

“It’s nothing to be sorry about Dean.” Cas flinches a smile and picks at his nails as Dean recovers enough to park the car.

“Still, shit, is that why you didn’t want to go out to dinner with me? Money?” Dean guesses and Castiel’s stomach plummets at just how perceptive his new friend is.

He flinches another smile. “I didn’t want to bring it up, but yes. I can’t afford to eat out.” He decided to be as honest as he can be without telling the truth about his job.

Dean huffs and shakes his head. “Damn, I should have thought about that when you said you stocked shelves at the gas station. Can’t imagine that pays all that well, does it?”

Cas chuckles. “No, no it doesn’t.”

“Let me take you to dinner then,” Dean offers suddenly and Cas’ heart stutters as he shakes his head.

“Dean…” Cas starts to protest but Dean cuts him off.

“Doesn’t have to be anything fancy. We can go to McDonald's if you want,” Dean offers quickly.

Cas sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can’t.” He refuses to take advantage of Dean’s kindness.

“Look, I’ve spent too much time alone lately. Please, do me a favor and keep me company,” Dean says, batting his lashes in a mockery of seduction.

Cas closes his eyes and shakes his head in annoyance as he lets out a breath through his nose. “Fine,” he relents. “But we’re going to In-n-Out. McDonald's is trash.”

“Yes!” Dean pumps his arm in the air with a wide smile. “It’s a date.” He grins.

Cas rolls his eyes. “It’s not a date. I don’t date.”

“I picked you up, we’re going for a romantic walk, _and_ I’m buying you dinner.” Dean waggles his brows with a smirk. “This is so totally a date.”

Cas huffs and folds his arms over his chest as he tries to glare but Dean’s playfulness is too endearing to resist. “Not a date,” he still grumbles for good measure despite the smile tugging at the corners of his lips and the pleasant squirming in his stomach.

As soon as Dean turns the car off, Cas’ feet are hitting the pavement and he circles around to the back of the car. He sucks in a deep breath of warm, salty, air and lets it out slowly as Dean joins him in leaning against the trunk. He remembers what the nurse at the hospital taught him so many years ago, inhaling slowly, counting, and then exhaling out just the same.

The technique has served him well over the years but with Dean at his side, his heart still patters wildly and his stomach twists.

“Hey, I’m sorry if I pushed too hard. I was just teasing,” Dean says quietly, sensing by Cas’ white-knuckled grip on the edge of the trunk that Cas is struggling. “Maybe I was reading things wrong, but I thought I felt something between us. I’ll back off. I swear.”

Cas shakes his head and clears his throat, finally blinking open his eyes to take in the breathtaking view of the bay and the famous bridge that comes with it. “You’re not,” Cas trails off and shakes his head again. “It’s not you, Dean.”

Dean nods with a soft grunt.

“I’m not in a position to date anyone. Getting romantically involved it… it's risky for someone like me and I can’t ask you to be okay with something that is very much not okay.” He can’t bring himself to look at Dean. Instead, he stares out over the water, watching the waves lap at the foundation of the bridge and cars inch slowly across. They’re mere specks from this distance, but he catches a faint glimpse of yellow there and bright blue there. Just enough to remind him that there are perfectly respectable people out there who would be so much better for Dean than him.

Dean shouldn’t even want to be _friends_ with him. He probably wouldn’t if he knew the truth, but Cas is too selfish to push him away.

“Why?” Dean questions softly and Cas closes his eyes in resignation. “Are you sick or something?” Dean continues and Cas holds no doubts that Dean is talking about the big sick, the three letters that scare people to no end.

The letters that would feel like a death sentence.

“No. I’m not sick.” Cas shakes his head reassuringly and Dean lets out a relieved sigh.

Dean stares out over the water with him in silence for a moment even if he does inch closer until their shoulders are brushing. “Whatever it is, I hope you can tell me someday.” He pushes off the trunk and turns to face Cas. “We going for a walk or what?” Dean arches a brow and Cas blinks at him, stunned by the sudden change.

He was certain that Dean was going to push until they were both uncomfortable. “You…you’re going to drop it?”

Dean bites his lip but nods. “Benny, my sponsor, has been trying to teach me not to drive people away by questioning their motives.” He rubs that back of his neck uncomfortably. “You want to be friends, right?”

Cas nods. “Very much so.” He can feel his cheeks flush and he looks away, suddenly unable to meet Dean’s gaze.

“Then that’s enough for me.” Dean forces a smile. “Now, you coming or what, buddy?”

The plastic smile Cas plasters on his face is his best attempt at pretending that Dean calling him _buddy_ doesn’t feel wrong, insufficient, somehow, as he pushes off the trunk to follow.

The rest of the afternoon passes with increasingly easy banter as they chat about Dean’s love for pie, his pride for his little brother, and as Cas learns, his nearly unhealthy obsession with his Baby. That is, the 1967 Chevy Impala that Cas is now certain Dean loves more than he does himself.

At some point, they kick off their shoes and socks in favor of feeling the sand between their toes and Cas’ cheeks start to hurt from laughing at Dean’s antics as he splashes through the shallow water.

“Dean! No!” Cas cackles when Dean leans down to cup water in his hands and he dances away when Dean tries to soak him with it. Soon enough, they’re kicking water at each other and running over the wet sand to escape.

Dean’s jeans are nearly soaked by the time Cas calls a truce, bending at the waist and panting hard to catch his breath. “You give up too easy,” Dean jokes as he claps Cas on the shoulder and steers him toward the large rocks that line the shore near where they dumped their shoes.

They settle next to each other on a large boulder with the water lapping at their bare toes and more than once, Cas looks over to see Dean’s profile framed by the rocky beach and the beautiful Golden Gate bridge. As the pinks and blues of the setting sun streak across the sky, Dean is perfection embodied and Cas’ heart patters happily. Dean’s knee is close enough to touch if Cas dared to bridge the distance between them but he doesn’t. He can’t.

The quiet surrounding them is peaceful, silencing the need to keep up idle conversation. Being around Dean soothes the constant buzz of worry under his skin and his fingers itch with the need to be closer to the beautiful man who crashed into his life.

He can’t help but want more of this.

“You hungry yet?” Dean looks over, his long lashes brushing his cheeks as he blinks against the sun. His skin looks golden and Cas leans closer as his gaze catches on the dusting of freckles smattered over the other man’s nose. He could happily spend hours counting each one if the sunlight would last. Even if Dean’s eyes and lips weren’t sheer perfection, his gracefully arched cheekbones and masculine yet delicate jaw could be something Bernini himself might have sculpted. “Cas?”

Cas jerks back and blinks his way out of the trance he had fallen into. “Sorry, what were you saying?” He rubs his hand through his hair as warmth bloom over his features and yet he can’t force his gaze away from Dean.

“Food. You hungry?” Dean looks at him with an amused smirk and sparkling eyes that make Cas blush deeper.

Cas gives a jerky nod and licks his lips nervously as he pointedly turns his chin toward the bay. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Come on then,” Dean says as he playfully smacks Cas’ thigh with the back of his hand. “I’m starving.”

They don’t bother putting their shoes back on until they’ve reached the parking lot and Dean drags a towel out of the trunk to wipe the sand from their feet before he’ll even consider opening the doors to his precious baby.

They grab their food to go and Cas directs Dean to a small park with picnic tables. “You’re disgusting,” Cas says with wide eyes as Dean shoves nearly half of his first burger into his mouth at once, making his cheeks bulge like a hamster.

Dean wrinkles his nose and sticks out his tongue, crumbs of his food tumbling onto the table as Cas wrinkles his nose and looks away. “What? You said you won’t date me, so I don’t need to try to impress you.” Dean’s tone lacks heat and his devilish smirk right before he takes another gargantuan bite has Cas huffing a laugh that makes his heart flutter.

It isn’t fair that someone who eats like a starving dog can be so endearing.

That flutter turns to a deep ache when Dean is driving him home later and against his better judgment, he has Dean drop him off at his building instead of the coffee shop. No sense in hiding the dump he lives in if they’re going to be friends, and he would be a fool to deny that he wants something with Dean.

Cas’ fingers linger on the door handle as Baby idles on the curb. The cavern opening in his stomach refuses to let his hand move to open the car door and his knee bounces awkwardly. “So, uh, thanks for today,” Cas says quietly without meeting Dean’s gaze.

Dean huffs but Cas can see him nodding out of his periphery. “I had a good time. Thanks for showing me the beach.”

Cas nods. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Hey, Cas.” Dean shifts in his seat until he’s facing Castiel. “About earlier.”

“Dean, I told you, I can’t…” Cas starts but Dean cuts him off.

“I know.” Dean holds his hand up in surrender. “Just, I want you to know, that whatever it is you’re sure I wouldn’t be okay with, you don’t have to worry. I’m not going to judge.”

Cas sucks in a breath through his nose and starts to open his mouth to thank Dean for his understanding but Dean keeps going.

“Besides, it’s not like you’re a hooker, right?” Dean says with a laugh and Cas’ heart plummets until it crashes against the pavement, fracturing into so many tiny pieces he couldn’t count them even if he wanted to.

“Right,” Cas says acerbically as he forces the door open. “I’ll see you later, Dean.”

He doesn’t wait for Dean to respond as he hurries to his building and shoves his way through the door as angry tears burn in his eyes.

He knew Dean wouldn’t accept him. He _knew_. Yet he let himself feel something and this is what he earned himself. Dean’s lighthearted quip cuts him deeper than the damning words of the street preachers who come around with stale cheese sandwiches and act like he wants their condescending version of charity.

“Clarence, what’s wrong?” Meg looks up from her spot on their ratty couch when he comes slamming through the door wiping his eyes. “Things not go well with lover boy?” She sets her book aside as he flops down and drops his head to her shoulder.

“He’s just like everyone else,” Cas mumbles as nausea begins to circle the food in his stomach.

“You told him what we do?” Meg scoots so she can wrap an arm around Cas’ back and trace soothing circles as he wallows.

Cas shakes his head against her shoulder. “Didn’t need to. He made his opinion clear enough.”

Meg sighs and strokes her bony fingers through his windswept hair and tugs him closer. “I’m sorry sweetie,” she whispers before pressing a comforting kiss to his stubbled cheek. “I’m sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... do you think Cas is overreacting or did Dean really put his foot in his mouth?


	4. The day that brings forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has been stewing for days. Cas won't return his calls or answer his texts. He screwed up, that much he's sure of. What he doesn't know, is how to fix it. Meanwhile, Cas is preparing for another night at work and has his own problems.

“Who pissed in your Wheaties, boy?” Bobby’s gruff voice comes from behind and Dean shoots upward with a startled curse, cracking his skull on the hood of the car he’s been buried in for the last hour and a half.

“Damn it!” Dean rubs his stinging scalp with greasy fingers and turns to stare at his adoptive uncle with narrowed eyes. “What are you talking about?” He grumbles, heart already starting to race. Bobby was so generous taking him on after all the bullshit he pulled back in Kansas. He can’t afford to let the man down again.

“You’ve been clanging around this garage like a man possessed all morning. Now, I ain’t complainin ‘bout the work you’re doin, but if you keep on like this I’m gonna have to smack you upside the head.” The older man’s brow arches and Dean can see his scowl even through the thick scruff covering his face. “Now, I’m gonna ask again, what’s got your panties in a twist?”

Dean swallows hard and shakes his head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Bobby arches a brow and folds his arms over his chest. “Don’t _fine_ me, boy. You remember our agreement? Spill. Now.”

Dean lets out a heavy sigh and hangs his head before pinching his brow with his greasy fingers. “I thought I was making a friend out here, finally, but now he won’t answer my calls or return my texts.”

Bobby rolls his eyes. “So it’s boy drama. Come on, Princess, I ain’t payin you to mope,” he says, but underneath his gruffness is a layer of gentle understanding that Dean recognizes from years of learning how to decode his uncle’s words.

Dean lifts his head and rolls his eyes. “So you keep reminding me.” His heart warms with Bobby’s concern and unique brand of tough love but he doesn’t let that affect the way scowls back at the older man.

“You sweet on him?” Bobby arches an accusing brow and Dean’s eyes blow wide. “Now don’t look at me like that, ya idjit. Damn well everyone who’s met ya can tell ya bat for both teams.” Bobby steamrolls forward, fixing Dean with an expectant look that his heart racing.

Dean nearly chokes on his spit as his mind whirls. “I uh…” His words fail as miserably as his cheeks are heating and he closes his eyes against the shaking swell in his stomach. Dean has always been so _careful_. John Winchester went to his grave not knowing about his dalliances with other men, there is no way that Bobby could know.

Yet the arched brow and disappointed frown that Bobby has aimed at him cuts through Dean’s gut like a knife and he can feel his pulse racing beneath his dirty grey coveralls.

“An you think I’d care? Or Ellen? Or Sam? We’re just glad you’re pullin your head out of your ass.” Bobby leans forward, his gaze boring into Dean until he starts to squirm.

Dean frowns, thinking _what the hell_ , and shakes his head. _We?_ Bobby’s been talking to Sam about him? He decided to set that piece of information aside for now and focus on the earth-shattering issue at hand.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice comes out strangled and small, a direct reflection of the nervous riot coursing through his veins. He rubs the back of his neck and tries to chuckle but the sound is pained to his own ears. There is no way Bobby is going to buy his cheap lie.

Bobby huffs with a roll of his eyes. “So that boy I saw you with behind the high school when you were 16, Aaron I think? You’re gonna tell me you neck with all your friends like that?”

Dean’s heart stops as he gapes. He’s dead. Dead and gone to hell to be having this conversation with the gruff old redneck that is Bobby Singer. Aaron had been his first and only boyfriend, nearly a decade ago. He never told anyone about him, not even Sam.

They were only together a few weeks and Aaron couldn’t understand why Dean froze up every time he got handsy and Dean certainly couldn’t tell him why. Add that to Dean’s refusal to be open about their relationship and he wasn’t someone Aaron could stand to be with.

He swallows hard when Bobby arches his brow expectantly and Dean knows he’s been cornered. “You knew all this time and never thought to mention it?” He gulps, terrified of what comes next.

“Would that have made a difference?” Bobby asks with a huff but his expression turns fond.

Dean lets out a heavy breath and frowns as he looks at the floor. “Prolly not.”

“Exactly. An’ it wouldn’ta done to have John hear about ya going around with other boys, so I didn’t see any sense in talkin to ya about it.” Bobby puts his hands on his hips and glances sideways at the pile of tools Dean had dug out of the back storage room.

Dean can’t help but nod in agreement. Telling his Dad that he likes men almost as well as women wasn’t something high on his list of things to accomplish. In fact, it was pretty damn low. Second from the bottom.

“So, this Cas fella?” Bobby probes, gently nudging Dean with his elbow to convince him to lift his chin. “You like him?”

Dean flinches a smile and nods. “Yeah, but he says he doesn’t date. Wants to be friends.”

Bobby nods and scrubs a hand through his beard. “And you’re upset about that?”

Dean can’t shake his head fast enough. “No! It’s not like that,” he hurries to explain. “We hung out on Sunday and I thought everything was good, but now he won’t answer my calls. I think I screwed up.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to take a deep breath as he replays their conversation in his head for at least the fiftieth time.

“And here I thought women were the dramatic ones.” Bobby rolls his eyes but his teasing tone betrays his exasperation. “You’d better figure out what you did to get the silent treatment and apologize quick if you want another chance.”

“Gee, thanks,” Dean says as he shakes his head. As if he hadn’t already been trying to figure that out.

“You’re welcome.” Bobby claps him in the shoulder before pointing at the car Dean had been working on. “Now, quit beatin up my tools!” Bobby demands before he spins away and shuts himself in his office.

Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to settle his nerves. His heart still skips and stutters at the fact that Bobby has apparently known about his attraction to men for years and doesn’t care. If he knows about that, then there are so many other things he could figure out and Dean needs to keep those things buried.

He takes another shuttering breath and his hands tremble as he turns back to his work, letting out a frustrated whine as he picks up his wrench. “Dammit, Cas,” he mutters under his breath before a surge of irritation boils in his veins.

This isn’t Cas’s fault.

Dean did something stupid and now he has to figure out how to fix it.

He hurries through the rest of the cars Bobby has lined up for him. Mostly simple repairs, a spark plug here and a muffler weld there. The work fails to soothe his mind as it usually does, his thoughts refuse to stop mulling over his last conversation with Cas.

Everything had been going so well. Even after shooting him down, Cas was open and friendly. Dean didn’t miss the way those blue eyes would stare when Cas thought he wasn’t looking and the low simmer in Dean’s belly would flare to life every time he caught Cas sneaking a glance.

Up until Dean dropped him off, they were fine. Until he made some nervous offhand comment about… “shit,” Dean mutters and nearly drops the torch in his hand when the pieces click together.

Cas is… or was… might be?

“Shit,” Dean swears again, dropping his brow onto his gloved palm.

Of all people, Dean should have been recognized the signs and now Cas thinks Dean is some bigot with something against sex workers. “Fuck,” Dean bites as he rips his gloves off and wipes his hands on his coveralls before handling his phone.

_To Cas: I’m an idiot and I’m sorry. Please, talk to me._

Dean closes his eyes and prays to whatever deity might be listening that Cas responds, but no message is forthcoming and after a few minutes, Dean tucks his phone back into his pocket and gets back to work.

Two hours later, Dean is stripping out of his coveralls and poking his head into Bobby’s office to say goodbye for the afternoon.

“You done already?” Bobby looks up from his paperwork with an arched brow.

Dean nods. “Gonna take your advice and try to apologize.”

Bobby smiles behind his beard before clearing his throat. “Whatever happens, I don’t wanna hear about it,” he grumbles but Dean can hear the fondness in his tone.

Dean hurries up to his small apartment to shower and dig something out of his freezer for dinner. He hopes he’s wrong, but deep in his gut, he knows he isn’t.

When he looks at the clock, he realizes that Cas is probably still asleep and he drops onto his worn-out couch with a heavy sigh before burying his face in his hands.

“What am I doing?” He grumbles to himself as he shakes his head sadly. He likes Cas, a lot, but is the chance of Cas being a prostitute something that he can deal with?

Dean groans, understanding why Cas refused to even consider dating despite their mutual interest.

It all makes sense.

“Fuck,” Dean groans as he tugs on his hair and reaches for his phone despite the leaden feeling in his stomach. He isn’t surprised that Cas hasn’t responded yet again, but he feels irritation simmer in his gut, nonetheless.

He glares at his phone as he chews his lip, trying to decide what to do.

He doesn’t need to decide now, he already knows he wants Cas as a friend. That’s enough, right?

Finally, he swallows hard and reaches for his phone with a plan forming in his mind.

_To Cas: If you don’t want to talk to me again, tell me or else I’m going to keep texting you until you’re not mad anymore_

Dean sighs and shakes his head as he decides let Cas tell him when he’s ready, but that doesn’t mean Dean can’t apologize. Sam would be proud of him if he knew.

_I’m an insensitive ass sometimes and I’m sorry._

_I like you, Cas. I don’t wanna lose you._

He tosses his phone aside and leans back against his couch with a groan. It’s done. If Cas still doesn’t want to talk to him, hopefully he’ll finally respond. Dean doesn’t know what else to say and the sinking feeling in his gut turns to nausea.

“Nut up, Winchester,” Dean grumbles to himself. Pining after someone he barely knows because he’s so desperate for a friend is somewhere he never imagined he would be.

He’s pathetic, that’s what he is.

Finally, _finally_ his phone pings, and Dean scrambles for it regardless of how pathetic he’s feeling.

_To Dean: Maybe we should talk._

Dean closes his eyes and sends up a prayer of thanks as he reads Cas’s simple message.

_To Cas: Please_

A minute passes and just as Dean starts to type another message, his phone starts to ring.

“Cas?” He answers as his heart begins to flutter excitedly.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas’s deep rumble comes across the line and Dean’s breath catches as a wide smile stretches his lips.

He tamps down on his excitement quickly, not willing to get ahead of himself quite yet. “How are you?” He chews his lips and sits up straighter on the couch so he doesn’t miss a word.

Cas sucks in an audible breath and Dean can almost imagine him chewing his lip nervously. “I’m okay. You?”

Dean breathes out and his slides slide closed. “Better now. Was worried about you.” He lets himself admit, hoping that Cas won’t judge him for being so pathetic.

Cas hums into the phone before he speaks, and when he does, his words are careful. “You are persistent.”

Dean nods before remembering that Cas can’t see him. “Yes. I mean, the way you left. I thought we were fine and then I clearly pissed you off. I didn’t mean to, I swear, I just… fuck, I don’t want any secrets between us. I spent so much of my life lying to people I care about, I don’t wanna live like that anymore…” Dean rambles and Cas lets him until Dean’s cheeks are flushed and he clenches his eyes in embarrassment with the words he almost said. “Sorry, I’m an idiot.”

“You care about me?” Cas’s tone is stunned.

Dean sucks in a breath and nods again as he waves his hand in the air. “Yeah, man. We’re friends.”

“You barely know me,” Cas retorts as the sound of shuffling comes over the line.

“Cas,” Dean interrupts firmly. “I don’t care. Unless you’re plotting to kill me in my sleep, I don’t care.” He says as much as he dares without broaching the subject of his suspicions and he chews his lip as Cas huffs into the phone.

“A murderer, I am not,” Cas says softly, an edge of amusement coloring his tone.

Dean nods and tightens his grip on the phone. “Good. Then let me take you out for dinner.”

“Dean,” Cas interrupts tiredly.

“Not a date, I swear,” Dean hurries to clarify. “Just two guys hanging out.”

“Alright,” Cas says slowly.

Dean grins. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Cas agrees, sounding a little more convinced.

“Awesome!” Dean cheers and his grin widens when he hears Cas chuckle over the line. “You said you have Sunday off, right?”

“I do,” Cas agrees.

“Awesome. I’ll pick you up. Six o’clock good?” Dean asks, already chewing his lip.

Cas takes an audible breath. “Yes, Dean.”

Dean can’t help the way his stomach squirms excitedly, deciding without his input that yes, he still wants to date Cas.

“Awesome,” Dean says just to cover the silence that falls while his mind is churning.

He needs a plan.

A way to convince Cas that he’s worth the effort.

To convince Cas that he isn’t going to run away when he learns the truth.

“I need to get ready for work,” Cas finally says before letting out a heavy breath.

Dean’s squirming stomach flops at those words and his heart constricts as he shakes his head silently. He doesn’t like that idea, not at all. “I’ll let you go then,” he breaths as he tightly closes his eyes and swallows hard.

“Goodnight, Dean,” Cas says, his deep voice taking on a melancholy tone.

“Oh, Cas. One more thing,” Dean sits up straighter, resting his elbows on his knees.

Cas hums softly in question. “Yes, Dean?”

“Please stop ignoring me.” Dean doesn’t mean for his voice to come out so small and unsure, but even to his own ears he sounds like a lost little boy, desperate for help.

Cas sighs. “I promise.”

The line does dead before Dean can respond and he taps his phone against his knee as he struggles to digest their conversation.

His gut doesn’t stop churning until long after the call has ended and his trembling hands lead him to a second shower. One so scalding hot that he forgets the pain of his body’s cravings in favor or remembering Cas’s bright smile, full of white teeth and pink gums as he laughs at one of Dean’s bad puns.

His heart aches fiercely as he climbs into bed and his mind searches for a plan until he’s carried away into dreams full of untamable dark hair and brilliant blue eyes.

\---Cas---

“Oh no, I don’t like that look,” Meg folds her arms over her chest and arches a brow as she glares.

Cas rolls his eyes as he tosses his phone onto his bed and pads over to his closet. “I’m just smiling.” So what if he’s smiling?

“You were talking to Dean, weren’t you?” Meg questions as she stalks toward him.

Cas shakes his head as he stands shirtless in front of his open closet with his jeans open around his waist. He was barely awake and wearing nothing more than loose boxers when he decided to call Dean and he’s glad Meg at least waited until he had gotten his jeans up over his bare ass before she came barging into his room. “Come on Meg, he’s just a friend.”

Meg steps into his space and rests her small hands on his shoulders as she forces him to meet her gaze as he hurriedly fastens his jeans after making sure his dick is tucked safely away from the harsh teeth of the zipper. “Just a friend?” She asks, her tone dripping with doubt.

Cas sighs and turns away to grab the cleanest shirt he sees and squeezes into it. “Like you said, he doesn’t have to know.” He had been so angry with Dean the other night even though he _knew_ that Dean couldn’t possibly know the truth. Once his ire had ebbed, he couldn’t bring himself to face the other man. He acted like a child, running away and then ignoring him, and yet Dean kept trying.

Kept proving his desire to be friends.

Meg hums and twirls her hair around a single finger. “I thought you were done with him.”

Cas shrugs “He apologized.” Cas sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, cursing his weakness and Dean’s irresistibility. If he hadn’t overreacted in the first place, he could have saved them both some worried heartache.

Meg’s arms fold over her chest once again and she fixes him with a stern look. “Did he know what he was apologizing for?”

Cas sucks in a deep breath through his nose and prays for patience. “He knew he said something that offended me and he apologized. That’s good enough for me and I expect you to accept that.” The fact that he’s too much of a coward to simply tell Dean the truth is something he doesn’t need to voice.

Meg’s glare softens and she takes his much larger hands between her palms. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. You deserve better than this life, Clarence.”

Cas deflates and wraps his arms around his friend. He leans down to rest his chin atop her head, breathing in the flowery scent to her hair. “So do you,” he mutters, voice muffled by the silky strands tickling his lips before pressing a chaste kiss against her part and drawing back.

Meg huffs and pulls away with a dismissive wave, but Cas can see the pain reflected in her gaze. “The ship sailed on that one.”

Her wry smile sends stabbing pain through his chest, flashes of memories of the years they’ve had together, the good times and the bad. He would have been lost without her, penniless and homeless without a family to crawl back to. He pulls her close again and blinks against the burning in his eyes at the reminder of how little time she has left. “Stay home, let me take care of you.”

She deserves to be pampered and his entire being aches with the fact that he can’t give her that.

Meg smiles at him sadly and strokes her thumb over the arch of his cheek. “You need to get out of this life. Don’t stay for me.”

A tear escapes from the corner of Cas’s eye and he tries to blink it away as he shakes his head. “I’m not gonna leave you.” Even if he wanted to, he doesn’t know how he would pick up the pieces and carry on with his life. He and Meg have clung to each other for years, his entire adult life, she’s been there for him. Helped him keep his head above water when he would have easily drowned.

He can’t leave her to die alone.

Meg huffs a smile and pats Cas’s cheek fondly. “You’re a good friend.”

Cas traps her frail hand against his cheek, covering her cool skin with his warm palm as he leans into her touch. “So are you.”

Meg gives him a watery smile and turns away. “You hungry? You should eat before we go.”

“When was the last time you ate?” Cas asks as he trails in her wake all the way to their sad little kitchen.

“I had breakfast, don’t worry,” Meg says, waving him off before resting a hand over her stomach and squeezes her eyes closed with a grimace.

Cas hurries to her side without thinking and wraps his arm around her back to guide her to their lumpy couch. “You’re staying home tonight.” Cas decides for her as he helps her down.

Meg presses her hand to her sternum, helping her breathe as she shakes her head with a grimace. “No, I’m fine, I just need a minute,” Meg protests, already pushing him away.

“Meg, please. Just let me take care of you.” Cas pulls her closer and rubs soothing circles between her shoulder blades. “Stay home tonight.”

“I’m supposed to be takin care of you, Clarence,” Meg tries to joke but her words only bring tears to Castiel’s eyes.

Cas forces a smirk and shakes his head slowly. “I’m not that lost kid anymore.”

Meg sighs and shakes her head. “You grew up too fast.”

Cas huffs a laugh and pushes to his feet. “I’m almost thirty,” he says flatly as he rolls his eyes.

“Ugh, you’re making me feel old,” Meg grumbles as she leans back and sinks into the couch cushions.

Cas narrows his eyes at her. “You’re only two years older than me.”

Meg tisks and waves him away as he turns toward the kitchen.

Cas rummages around, searching for something bland to try to coax Meg to eat and ends up settling on minute rice with a decent amount of dollar store margarine slathered over it. She crinkles her nose when he hands her the bowl along with a large glass of water but accepts his offering without complaint.

“You sure we can afford for me to stay home tonight?” Meg asks as she takes the first nibble of the steaming rice.

Cas nods quickly. “I made six hundred off that one john last week, we’ll be fine for a little while.”

Meg shakes her head and looks at him warily. “I still wanna know how you managed that much.”

Cas pinches a frown and looks toward the door. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He doesn’t want to remember it either. If he learned one thing from that experience, it’s that he won’t accept that kind of offer again.

Money be damned.

The way he felt afterward, the shame and dirtiness that made him scrub himself raw when he finally got home early the next morning, none of that is an experience he cares to repeat.

Meg leans forward and grasps his hand as she searches his expression with her doe-like brown eyes. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No,” Cas assures her as he squeezes her hand. “I should be going.”

Meg sucks in a breath through her nose and nods. “Promise me something, Clarence.”

Cas flinches a smile and nods. “Anything.”

“Promise me you’ll get out of this life when I’m gone.” She looks up at him with a pained smirk and worry gnaws in Cas’s gut.

Meg never talks about her illness.

That has been her number one rule since the doctor at the clinic showed them the ultrasound.

Meg had allowed herself to break down and sob in Castiel’s arms only once. Since then, she’s continued on as normally as possible, ignoring her fate and refusing to give in to the despair nagging at the edge of her consciousness.

He would admire her fortitude if watching her suffer didn’t hurt so damn much.

Cas swallows hard and does his best to smile. “I promise.” He doesn’t know how he’ll manage, but he’ll try his best if that’s what she wants for him. He owes Meg his life.

“Good boy, Clarence,” she says with a soft smile as she pats his hand.

Cas leans down to kiss her cheek and the yawning pit in his stomach opens further as he crosses the room and slips out the door without another word. He fights against the despair threatening to spill from his eyes by pressing his brow against the wall.

His fist connects with the cheap drywall, sending crumbs of plaster raining to the floor.“Today was just a bad day,” he mutters to himself, ignoring the fact that the bad days are becoming more frequent than the good days. “Tomorrow will be better.”

The creak of a door down the dim hallway startles him back to reality after only a moment and his gaze snaps to the interloper, noting with some annoyance that the offender is the popcorn fiend when the nose curling stench of the freshly destroyed snack reaches him. He holds his breath and hurriedly waves at his neighbor before turning away and barreling down the stairs with a scowl etched firmly on his features.

Seriously. Who can manage to burn their popcorn Every. Single. Day?

Monsters.

That’s who.

The walk to his usual alley passes in a blur while he chews over his thoughts and worries as he runs his fingers aimlessly through his hair. He barely remembers to give Missy her customary wave as he passes the coffee shop but the tempting scent of caffeine manages to remind him.

His feet nearly steer him inside before he remembers that he needs to put business before pleasure and he scoffs at the thought. How sad his life has become that coffee, not the sex he has nearly every day, is his greatest pleasure.

“Castiel!” A voice calls from behind him as he reaches the end of the block and he turns with a pinched brow.

“Missy?” His head tilts of its own volition before his eyes dip to the paper cup clutched tightly in her hand.

She flashes him a winning smile and closes the distance between them as he stands frozen to the pavement that is only now beginning to release the heat of the day, coving the faint chill of night air rolling in from the bay. “It might be a little cold, I wasn’t sure when you’d be by…” She trails off as she holds out the cup earnestly.

“Thank you?” Cas takes the cup with an arched brow and gives it a cursory sniff. The delectable scent of sugar and caramel hits his nose and he can’t help the wide smile that colors his features. “This smells amazing.”

Missy blushes and clasps her hand in front of her. “My boss told me to come up with some new flavor combinations. I wanted you to try this one.”

“Oh?” Cas questions and gladly takes an experimental sip. His palate lights up happily at the strong taste of espresso and warm hints of spice. “Caramel and cardamom?” He arches his brow, pleasantly surprised by the strange combination.

Missy beams at him and bites her lip. “And pecan.”

Cas nods with a restrained smile as he takes another sip. “It's delicious. Thank you.”

“I know you need to getting to…work,” Missy says with a hard swallow, her darkly lined eyes glance at the street beyond him as she chews his lip. “But I wanted to ask, how did things turn out with that guy a couple weeks ago? You two seemed to hit it off…”

Cas huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “We did. I suppose I have you to thank for that, all but forcing me to stay by not giving me a to-go cup. I think we’re going to be good friends.”

Missy flushes and gives him a half-smile. “Only friends?”

Damn, she’s perceptive. “Only friends.” He shrugs to stifle how wrong the words sound leaving him mouth. It’s for the best.

Missy sucks in a breath and her smile falters as she shakes her head. “Just seemed like you both could use someone, you know?”

Cas chuckles and sips at his coffee. “You’re awfully insightful for someone I only see once every couple of weeks.”

Missy grins with a _what can you do_ shrug. “It’s part of the job.” She licks her lips. “Besides, you seem like a good guy. Not a creeper at least. I always look forward to you coming in.”

Now it’s Cas’s turn to flush. “Not a creeper. I suppose that is high praise,” he says with a chuckle as he shakes his head.

“Don’t you know it,” Missy says with a grin. “I gotta be getting back to work, but stop by more often and I’ll ply you with more experiments.”

Cas laughs lightly and his shy smile turns into a grin as pleasure bubbles in his chest. “Thanks, Miss,” he says, raising his cup in a mock toast.

She turns to go with a wide smile, leaving him alone to wonder what just happened but glad that it did nonetheless. “Don’t be a stranger!” She turns her head to call over her shoulder before disappearing into the coffee shop with the tinkling of the bells over the door.

The rest of the walk passes quickly, his heart warmed by the simple act of kindness from a near stranger. He always thought she was a sweetheart. Naïve, maybe, but most college kids are. He remembers that well enough from experience.

His steps are lighter when comes to his destination and he chucks his empty cup into the dumpster at the back of the alley with a smile that he can’t help. Worries about Meg still gnaw at his thoughts, but he’s buoyed by the promise of seeing Dean in a few days and his possible budding friendship with the barista at the coffee shop.

As usual, his spot is deserted and he takes a deep breath as he leans against the corner of the brick building with a flirty smile plastered on his face. From his left, the faint bass of the gay club down the block fills the air, providing him a modicum of background noise to make the wait a little less torturous as his thoughts start to wander.

Only a few minutes pass before the sound of tires of damp asphalt reaches his ears and his gaze shifts toward the noise. A sleek black sedan rolls to a stop in front of him and Cas’s stomach flips as he forces his hips to sway just so as he approaches the familiar car. The window rolls down as Cas braces his bare forearm against the roof and leans over to smirk suggestively at the occupant.

“Hey there, handsome,” Cas says in his most enticing voice as he gives the man a flirtatious once over. The man inside is one of his most regular customers and also one of Castiel’s favorites. He’s always clean and his words are kind. Best yet, he never complains about the price Cas charges.

He can’t really ask for more.

The man huffs and tosses his cigarette on the ground for Cas to grind out with his boot. “Evening. The usual?” The faint lilt to his accent makes Cas place him as vaguely British. Maybe Australian, it’s hard to tell when he speaks so softly.

Castiel nods, stomach churning just a little bit like it always does before climbing into someone’s car. Even if this man has never shown any sign of aggression, he can’t shake the feeling of unease. “Usual price, 25.”

The man hums thoughtfully, Cas hasn’t even bothered coming up with moniker for him despite having had his dick in his mouth every Thursday for the past year and he nearly regrets his oversight. “How much for a fuck?”

That’s new. Cas’s eyes widen at the change in routine before schooling his expression and shrugging. “75.” He swallows hard, heart starting to race. His body is prepared, but he wasn’t expecting to start his evening with _that._

The man chews his lip and nods as he reaches for his wallet and pulls out a series of bills. “75. Got my own condom,” he says as he hands over the bills.

He always has his own condom, which is something Cas appreciates.

Cas takes the money and swallows hard as he tucks it away before waving the man deeper into the alley. “How do you want me?”

“I’d rather do this outside, more room and all.” He gestures vaguely at the back seat of his car. Cas knows from experience how cramped it can be. Cadillacs weren’t made for two large men to move around in the back seat.

Cas breathes in through his nose and nods. “Alright. There’s a secluded spot back there,” he says, gesturing with his chin even as his fingers tremble.

The dark-haired man nods and pulls forward to park his car, leaving Cas behind to wait in an act of trust. Once the car is safely tucked in the next alley, he climbs out and follows Cas at a slight distance, hips as he beckons him deeper into the darkness.

The sensation of being watched creeps up his spine and Cas throws the man a careless smile even as his stomach twists from the change of routine.

The john hums and his thick fingers curl around Cas’s bicep gently. “Right here, gorgeous,” he mutters in his lilted accent as he turns Cas to face the brick wall. His hands skim over Cas’s sides as he plasters himself against Castiel’s back. “I suppose I can’t talk you into a kiss?” he whispers as he pushes Cas’s hands away from the front of his jeans.

Cas swallows hard and shakes his head. “Can’t, sorry,” he mutters, a flush creeping up his cheeks as the man’s nimble fingers begin to toy with the button at the front of his jeans.

The man hums as he gently turns Cas to face the wall. “That’s a shame, I bet your lips are delicious,” he whispers, his voice low and husky as his fingers skim Cas’ hips and push his jeans down to uncover his ass. “Can I put my mouth on you? Not on the lips, but elsewhere?”

Cas sucks in a shaky breath and nods. “Okay,” he manages to say around the thundering of his heart. The gentle hands coaxing his jeans lower and caressing the smooth expanse of his hips has him nearly trembling with confusion.

“Been thinking about this for a long time. As good as your lips look wrapped around my cock, I can only imagine how good your tight hole is going to feel.” The man runs his fingertips down the length of Cas’ flaccid cock before cupping his balls gently.

Cas eyes squeeze shut to try to pretend he’s somewhere else, with someone else. This is too much, too intimate, but he doesn’t want to upset the man touching him so gently. This should be easy money and he’d be a fool to put a stop to it.

“So good for me, baby,” the man coos as the sound of a zipper is quickly followed by the sound of a foil packet tearing.

Cas jumps when he feels lube slick fingers pry between his cheeks instead of the blunt head of a cock. He drops his head against his hands over the brick and tries to relax as a finger finds its way inside and twists.

He barely stifles a startled gasp when one finger becomes two and they crook toward his prostate. Instead, he lets out a drawn-out groan and tries not to squirm as his dick twitches involuntarily and his cheeks heat.

“Going to come for me, darling?” the man coos as he continues rubbing against Cas’s prostate and Cas has to clench his eyes to keep his nausea at bay.

He moans and writhes, pretending to vocalize his enjoyment during this awkward torment until his traitorous dick decides to perk up and take notice of the care being taken with him.

Finally, _finally,_ the sound of a condom wrapper being torn open cuts through his breathy moans, and the fingers are quickly replaced by the blunt pressure of a cock at his opening.

What he doesn’t expect is for those slick fingers to wrap around his cock and stroke it to life as the man pushes inside. Cas whimpers at the dual sensations and forces himself to meet the man thrust for thrust as he begins to move.

If he’s intent on pleasuring Cas too, he really shouldn’t complain, however strange this situation is. Its been so long since he’s been with someone who’s bothered with his pleasure, always intent on getting themselves off. After all, his orgasm isn’t what they’re paying for.

“Knew you’d feel this good, so tight around me,” the man grunts in Cas’s ear as he moves, his dick sliding in and out smoothly as his hand works Cas’s cock like they’ve been doing this for ages instead of just tonight.

Cas cries out as the angle changes and his prostate is rubbed with each pass of the man’s cock and he can’t help the low simmer of arousal building in his gut. He gives himself over, not bothering to clamp down the tremors making his balls begin to draw tight as the cock moving in him so carefully hits the right spot over and over again.

He closes his eyes and sees green, plush lips mouth at the back of his neck, a calloused hand jacking his cock steadily, squeezing and twisting just on the right side of rough. For a moment, Cas envisions Dean behind him, moving in him, and he lets out a drawn-out moan that would have him ashamed if he weren’t putting on a show to earn his money.

“Gonna make you come, wanna feel you,” the man mutters in Cas’s ear, shattering his wayward fantasy and Cas groans for an entirely different reason.

That voice is all wrong.

“Make me come,” he forces himself to say, not having to fake his breathlessness as his body is driven closer to orgasm. His cheeks flush with shame for imaging Dean, for wishing the man driving into him was younger with bowlegs and the most charming smile Cas has ever seen.

A shiver runs up Cas’s spine as the man adjusts his angle and sharpens his thrusts as he pants in Cas’s ear. “Come on, come for me.”

Cas whimpers and squeezes his eyes shut, imaging Dean’s hands on him and how his voice would grow rough with the pleasure. His worries melt away as he lets himself indulge in the fantasy and heat builds low in his groin, pushing outward and upward until he’s coming with a bitten off shout that has his client following only a few strokes later.

They fall still, panting and Cas can feel the man’s hammering heart against his back and he swallows hard, blinking the sweat from his watery eyes.

When his john pulls out, Cas winces from the sensitivity but he forces himself to straighten and tug his jeans back up his hips as he turns.

The man already has himself tucked away when Cas meets his gaze and the awkwardness of whatever just happened fully sets in. Clients aren’t supposed to care if Cas gets off. They normally don’t even notice if he gets hard or not, let alone touch him with the purpose of bringing him pleasure.

That isn’t what they’re paying for and this development has Cas’ stomach flopping.

His regular flinches a half smile and rubs the back of his neck as his cheeks redden before reaching for his wallet again. “That was weird, wasn’t it? I’m sorry if I crossed any lines…”

Cas holds up a silencing hand and shakes his head with an amused smile. “A little weird, very unexpected but I am not going to complain,” he says with a saucy wink that his heart just can’t support.

“Good, good,” the man nods as he fingers out another bill. “Since I’ve already made this weird,” he says, holding out a twenty-dollar bill. “I, uh, noticed you’ve gotten thinner and I, I don’t know, I worry? Anyway, you’re gorgeous with more meat on your bones and just, uhm, use this to buy yourself a big meal, okay?”

Cas’s jaw drops and he stares, wide-eyed as he processes the man’s words.

He isn’t sure whether to be touched or insulted but he reaches for the money all the same.

The man pulls it back. “Promise me you’ll use this for food.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Does a latte count?” He asks with an arched brow, digging deep to find a bit of sass despite his bewilderment.

His client laughs and hands the money over. “I suppose so. Seriously man, I know I have no right to tell you what to do, but I hope you take care of yourself. I know you’re probably not out here doing this for fun.”

Cas flushes and ducks his chin, heart oddly warmed by the man’s concern. He shrugs and forces a watery smile. “It’s a way to survive,” he says, more honest than he intended to be but the words seem to fit.

The man nods. “See you next week?”

Cas can’t help his blush as he smiles without thinking. “Unless I win the lottery.”

That earns him another chuckle as his client shakes his head. “In that case, good luck,” he says as he turns to leave Cas alone in the dim alley with a soft smile.

Cas sighs as he tucks the extra money away, already deciding that he’s going to stop for coffee tomorrow night and spend a few minutes chatting with Missy. If he’s careful, he’ll have enough left to pay for his own meal when he has dinner with Dean on Sunday.

After all, he did make a promise… and that has to count for something.


	5. The day that forward steps are taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Sunday comes and Dean is excited about his plans with Cas but he has no idea where the night is going to lead.

Dean blinks at the ceiling as he stretches his arms high above his head with a satisfied groan.

Sunday.

The one day of the week Bobby closes up shop so that he can spend all day making Ellen wish he worked seven days a week.

At least, that’s what Ellen said the only time Dean dared to ask.

He yawns wide, jaw popping as he shimmies himself deeper into his memory foam mattress with a pleased smile before rolling onto his side to reach for his phone.

For the last three mornings, he’s woken up to phone calls from Cas and he sighs when he notices that he’s managed to sleep in and there aren’t any messages waiting for him.

Sure, he _told_ Cas he was planning on sleeping in instead of getting up at ass o’clock for work. Never mind that he’s seeing Cas later, he didn’t need to call.

He sighs and shakes his head the same way he tries to shake off the misplaced disappointment he feels.

He still wants his wake-up call, dammit.

He told Cas not to call and he didn’t. He has nothing to be upset over and yet he still drops back to his mattress with a morose frown, chastising himself for his stage five clinger thoughts. Cas is _just_ a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

Sadly, the coil of tension low in his gut refuses to understand that message whenever his thoughts turn to that tousled brown hair and those piercing blue eyes.

“Dammit,” Dean scrubs his hands over his face before rolling out of bed to make his way to the bathroom.

He takes care of his business and heads for the coffee machine, delighting in the silence emanating from the garage below him as he waits for his caffeine to brew. His fingers twitch but he ignores the low pulse of want that constantly threatens his sanity.

The cravings have lessened, thankfully, but they’re still there. Waiting to grab ahold of him the moment he lets his guard down. Like now.

His thoughts of Cas and the excitement of seeing him mixed with the disappointment of missing his wake-up call left him open to this nosedive. _Fuck._ He grimaces, rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes.

Benny told him this could happen, that there was a good chance he might be fighting some depression underneath his addiction and mood swings come with the territory. He considers calling his sponsor, it's even later out in Kansas where he lives, and he told Dean to call outside of their weekly check-ins if he needs support.

He could call him. Maybe. Dean glances at the clock on his microwave and shakes his head with a groan.

It’s damn near noon.

He should call someone.

If he calls Benny, that would be admitting that he needs more help than the Louisiana transplant he left behind can give.

If he calls Bobby, then the old man will just worry.

He swallows hard and squeezes his eyes closed as he drums his fingers on the counter. He hates how weak he is, how these random cravings seem intent on punishing him for his hard-fought sobriety.

He goes through the motions of starting the coffee machine and then sits in front of the TV, clinging to his routine in hopes that the tremble in his hands will slow and his heart rate returns to normal. When he still feels as if he’s about to crumble, he wipes away the sweat beading on his brow and digs in the pocket of his sleep pants for his phone.

His thumb hovers over Bobby’s contact, the old man told him to call whenever he needed support, but Dean’s chest aches with self-loathing at the thought of disturbing his uncle’s quiet morning with his bullshit.

Instead, he opens the text thread with Cas and begins to type.

_To Cas: I know you’re probably sleeping, but I wanted to make sure we’re still on for tonight. Text me when you get the chance._

“Lame, Winchester,” he grumbles to himself as he tosses his phone onto the cushion next to him.

He buries his head in his hands and scrapes his fingernails against his scalp as he tugs his hair painfully. He needs a distraction. Something. Anything. His stomach roils and his head aches as he tries to center his thoughts and take deep breathes.

In slow, out even slower.

Count to ten.

Repeat.

“One more day,” Dean mutters to himself as his tremors slow and he swallows hard against the bile rising in his throat. “One more day.” He reminds himself of his promise to take this one day at a time.

Finally, he sucks in a full breath and the tightness in his chest loosens enough for him to sink back into the couch cushions with a sigh. He can’t help but wonder when this torment is going to stop, when his body is going to accept that he’s living a different life now.

Just when he’s about to force himself up to pour a cup a coffee, his phone dings and he reaches for it without thinking.

_To Dean: Good morning._

_Yes, we are still on for tonight._

Dean huffs a laugh and smiles down at his phone.

With a few simple words, the sun shines on Dean’s mood and his position seems a lot brighter. Maybe Benny was right, he should have looked for a roommate. Being alone isn’t good for him.

Then again, living with some random dumbass might have driven him back to the bottle instead.

_To Cas: You’re still awake?_

He thought Cas would have been asleep by now but he isn’t about to complain.

_To Dean: Yes. My roommate is not feeling well._

_To Cas: Shit, I hope he feels better soon._

_To Dean: I’m sure she will._

She? Cas hadn’t mentioned he lived with a woman. He sucks in a breath and bites his lip as his stomach drops.

_To Cas: Girlfriend?_

_To Dean: No! I am very much gay, Dean._

Good, good.

Wait.

That doesn’t matter.

Cas made it clear he isn’t interested.

_To Cas: Okay, not that it matters._

_I mean…_ he starts to type but he’s interrupted by his phone starting to ring.

“Shit,” Dean mutters as he touches the button to answer the call. “Hey Cas,” he says brightly, pretending that his cheeks aren’t burning.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas rumbles into the phone, sounding pleasantly amused.

“Hi.” Dean scrubs his hand over his face and turns toward his coffee machine. Very clever. _Dumbass._

Cas chuckles. “How are you?”

Dean sucks in a breath through his nose as he pulls a mug out of his cupboard and fills it. “I’m good.” He shrugs, not caring that Cas can’t see him. If he keeps telling himself that he’s fine, eventually he will be. Right?

Cas hums doubtfully but breaks into a yawn before he can formulate a response.

“How are you?” Dean questions before Cas can call him out on his bullshit.

Cas hums again. “Tired, but Meg needed help…” he trails off. “Anyway, I just wanted to check in.”

Dean scrunches his brow. Check in? He’s the one who texted first. “Is Meg your roommate?”

“Yeah, we’ve been living together for a few years,” Cas answers easily.

Dean sighs as he takes a sip of his coffee and leans his hip against the counter. “I take it you two are close?”

“Yeah, we’ve…we’ve been through a lot together.” Cas’s voice is muffled by the sound of rustling fabric and another wide yawn.

“Shit, man, I should let you get some sleep.” Dean scratches the back of his neck but his soft smile refuses to dim.

Cas hums and Dean can hear more rustling. “I’m the one who called you.”

Dean shrugs and his stomach swoops at Cas’s low voice and soothing tone. “Still. You sound tired.”

Cas gives an agreeing hum. “I am very tired.”

“Then _sleep_ , Cas.” Dean sips on his coffee and considers.

For being on opposite schedules, they manage to talk a lot.

Dean would worry about Castiel’s sleep schedule, but most of the time Cas is the one calling him. He can’t be held responsible for that, can he?

“I suppose I should,” Cas mutters into the phone. “Do you have any plans for the day?”

Dean huffs as he cradles the phone and opens his fridge, searching for breakfast. “Nothin much, just cleaning house an all that.”

Cas hums again. “Could you do me a favor then?”

“Anything,” Dean answers without thinking, his stomach doing a pleasant little swoop.

“Wake me up by five if you haven’t heard from me yet,” Cas says through a yawn and Dean grins.

“Sure thing, Sunshine.” Dean’s smile doesn’t fade as he pulls the jug of milk from his fridge and sets it on the counter. “Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Dean,” Cas says before the line goes dead and Dean is sure he heard a smile in the man’s voice.

Dean sucks in a deep breath and relishes the loose feeling in his chest, so different than the tense discomfort he’s come to expect.

The short conversation with Cas buoys Dean’s spirits through the afternoon. He takes Baby to get groceries, driving with the windows down through the outskirts of the city and marvels at the lark that took him down to the seedy side of town where he ran into Cas.

It really is out of his way, during the week traffic is a nightmare but he needed to escape that night. He had wanted a drink and intended to find one, but Bobby’s insistent texting created a yawning cavern of guilt in his gut that stretched wider with each ignored text.

All of those miserable emotions fizzled out the moment he stepped into that coffee shop and literally collided with the man of his dreams. Those bright blue eyes staring up at him with perfectly pink lips parted in a startled O had made Dean’s heart skip and stutter in ways he’s never felt before.

Even now, just remembering his embarrassment and awkward offer to replace Cas’s coffee, his cheeks start to heat.

He’s no fool, he knew that the barista was lying when she said she was out of Cas’s original order… the one that cost less than half of what Dean ended up paying for but he didn’t mind. Not when it meant having a chance to talk to Cas for even a few minutes while she made it.

He could have hugged her when she handed over the drinks in ceramic cups as if she were some sort of matchmaking savant.

His stomach flutters as his mind replays the rest of that night, the easy conversation and soft smiles. The hours they spent bent in conversation felt so much like a date that Dean had honestly forgotten it wasn’t until he leaned in to kiss Cas goodnight and was pushed away.

“Mind out of the gutter,” he grumbles to himself, the words lost on the wind whipping through the car. Cas made his position clear.

He doesn’t date.

And if Dean’s suspicions are correct, then he understands why even if he’s given up on trying to agree.

He’s going to respect Cas’s wishes though, no matter how much he wants to push.

His fingers drum on the steering wheel as his thoughts drift to Sam. The crisp salty air blows through his hair just soothingly enough for his brother’s name to send only a tendril of unease through him instead of the usual full-blown shame.

Huh. Progress.

As quickly as thoughts of Sam appear, Dean shoves them away. Now isn’t the time.

Progress, just like he thought.

By the time he gets back to his tiny little apartment over the garage, it’s barely past two and putting away his groceries takes nowhere near long enough. He sits on his couch, drumming his finger against his lips while his phone taunts him.

Bobby’s voice rings in his mind, insisting that he call Sam but his heart races at the thought. What would he say? _Hey, Sammy, remember me? Your drunk loser of a brother?_ Dean sucks in a shaky breath and closes his eyes. He’s getting his shit together.

Hell, he’s gotten his shit together.

The last months haven’t been easy and he’s fought hard to get this far.

Bobby and Ellen never miss an opportunity to tell him they’re proud of him.

He’s been holding down a steady job, has a place to live.

He’s even making friends.

Well, friend, but still. That has to count for something.

He swallows hard as he reaches for his phone and punches the button to call Sam before he can chicken out.

His heart hammers and he holds his breath as he presses the ringing phone to his ear. One, two, three rings pass and his hands tremble as he closes his eyes and swallows hard.

 _“Hello?”_ Sam’s voice comes over the line mid-ring, deeper than he remembers but still so clearly his brother. _“Dean? Is that you? Dean?”_

Dean bites back a terrified sob and hangs up before tossing the phone to the other end of the couch. He stares unblinking at the device, terrified that it will ring.

Blesses silence follows and he lets out a shaky breath before burying his face in his hands. “Fuck,” he says to no one and pulls at the longer hairs on the top of his head.

He’s a coward.

A fucking coward.

From halfway across the room, his phone finally rings and he can’t bring himself to look.

He swallows hard and pushes to his feet, barely sparing the ringing phone a glance before hightailing it to the shower. He finally lets the burning in his eyes spill over once he’s under the scalding spray and his ragged breathing can’t be heard over the pelting water.

Trying to call Sam was a mistake. Who is he trying to kid? He isn’t good enough to be in Sam’s life. He’s a perpetual fuckup and he doesn’t deserve Sam’s forgiveness or acceptance.

Sam is better off without him.

He rests his brow against the fiberglass of the shower surround and lets the water drown his sorrows until he starts to shiver, the hot water long since gone. Only then does he grab the bar of soap and start scrubbing his chilled skin.

The cold helps to ground him and loosens up the stuffiness in his nose that can only come in the aftermath of his pitiful tears. No one is there to see him blow his nose into a wad of toilet paper after wrapping his scratchy towel around his dripping body and no one is there to see him brace his hands against the sink and stare into the porcelain bowl while he tries to collect himself.

Several deep breaths later, he wanders into the bedroom to find some clean clothes and ends up shrugging into an emerald green button-down that he knows brings out his eyes and his best pair of jeans.

His phone taunts him from where it nearly slipped between the couch cushions and he busies himself in the kitchen, tidying up the already tidy space until he suddenly realizes that its five minutes after five and he should be checking on Cas.

He swallows hard as he approaches the couch, side-eyeing his phone as if it were a wild animal ready to attack instead of a hunk of glass and plastic.

Two missed calls from Sam and a voicemail.

He sucks in a shaky breath as he swipes away the notification without listening and looks up Cas’s contact.

After a moment of hesitation, he hits the call button. Justifying to himself that Cas is more likely to hear his phone ring instead of a single text.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas’s voice washes over him and instantly soothes his frazzled nerves, even as rough and gravelly as it is.

“Heya, Cas,” Dean says, his voice nearly a sigh. “Wakey wakey.” He grins, trying to fake a happy and teasing tone.

Cas chuckles and lets out a groan like he’s stretching an arm high over his head and arching his back like a cat. “It's five already,” he says through a yawn.

“Yeah, you still wanna grab dinner with me?” Dean asks, his stomach twisting with doubt. If Cas is too tired, he’d understand, but he’s been looking forward to this for days and he really doesn’t want Cas to cancel.

“Of course,” Cas cuts off Dean’s train of thought before he can derail himself.

“Awesome,” Dean says, smile far more genuine now that he has Cas’s voice in his ear and the promise of his company in just a few short minutes. “You like burgers?”

Cas chuckles and Dean can hear rustling in the background as Cas climbs out of bed. “I love burgers.”

“Awesome,” Dean says again, cursing his sudden limited vocabulary. “You’re the local, know any good places?”

Cas hums his agreement. “I do. Have you been to Popsons?”

Dean shakes his head before remembering that Cas can’t’ see his head rattle. “Nope. Where is it?”

“Not far from me, if you pick me up, I can give directions,” Cas says easily as the muffled sound of a door closing comes over the line in the background.

“I can be there in,” Dean trails off and checks his watch. “I can be there in 40?”

“I’ll be waiting outside,” Cas agrees.

“Awesome,” Dean says _again_ , hating himself just a little bit more and he scrubs a hand over his face to hide his awkward shame.

Cas huffs a laugh. “Well, I need to shower and make sure Meg eats something, so I’d better go.”

“Okay,” Dean agrees. “I’ll see you soon.” And damn him if he doesn’t feel like an idiot, fawning over his friend when he has no business to.

“Yes, Dean. I’ll see you soon,” Cas says, leaving a beat of silence.

“Bye, Cas,” Dean says in a vain attempt to cover the awkwardness fluttering in his chest.

“Bye, Dean…oh, wait!” Cas stops him just before Dean ends the call. “Thank you for calling, to wake me up…I, um, talking to you was nicer than waking up to an alarm.”

Dean’s cheeks heat as he lets out a huff of awkward laughter. “No problem buddy. See you in a few minutes.” He ends the call before he can put his foot in his mouth any further. He knows exactly what Cas is talking about, the same reason he’s been enjoying hearing Cas’s voice first thing in the morning instead of the screeching of his phone.

He sets his phone down and lets out a deep breath, both hating and loving the thrill that comes with hearing Cas’s voice in his ear. Eventually, he just decides to go with it. Cas is his friend, being excited to see him isn’t unreasonable. At least that’s what Dean tells himself to justify the half smile he wears as he whistles his way down the steps and out the back door of the garage.

Like the best girl she is, Baby is waiting for him just outside. Glistening in the late afternoon sun prettier than any mirage. “You ready to go see Cas?” He asks her as he slides behind the wheel and turns the key in the ignition. “I know, I know, he’s just a friend. I swear,” he says to her growling engine and pats the dash.

He knows better than to get his hopes up.

\---

As promised, Cas is waiting for him outside when he finally pulls up to the curb and Dean can’t help but stare. The darker haired man is leaning against the crumbling red brick with his knee bent and foot propped up, effortlessly handsome in the late afternoon sun. His jeans are snug and his simple t-shirt hugs his biceps and showcases the flat of his stomach like he’s some kind of model.

Dean has to swallow hard to keep from drooling when his gaze travels upward to take in the man’s windswept hair and the way his thumb is hooked into the pocket of his jeans.

Damn.

There goes any chance of trying to keep things platonic between them.

As soon as Baby stops in front of him, Cas pushes off the building with a cocky smile and climbs into the car without saying a word.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, Dean is sure of it.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says, trying to calm his racing heart as he mentally chastises the butterflies swarming in his stomach.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas’s smile softens when he turns his head to face Dean.

Dean clears his throat and rubs his thumb against the worn leather of the steering wheel as he searches for something, anything, to say that won’t make him sound like an idiot with a crush. “How’s your roommate? Meg, right?” Is what finally tumbles out and Dean internally cheers at the lack of a need to put his foot in his mouth. He is capable of perfectly normal conversation, thank you very much.

Cas sucks in a breath and nods. “She’s resting. Had a rough morning but she’s feeling a little bit better now.”

Dean nods as he shifts Baby into gear. “That’s good to hear. She have a cold or something?”

Cas arches a brow and shakes his head. “Or something.”

“Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, just say the word.” Dean drums his fingers on the wheel when he senses a dark cloud beginning to settle over Cas.

Cas shakes his head with a small grunt. “There’s nothing you can do, Dean. But thank you.”

Dean swallows hard. The resignation laced in Cas’s tone says more than his words and Dean doesn’t know what to do with that. He clears his throat and risks a glance toward the passenger seat. Cas is staring steadily out the window with his chin tilted toward the sky as if the waning light of day will somehow make everything whole again. “So, this, uh, burger place. Where am I going?” He flinches a smile when Cas’s head whips around to face him, blue eyes wide.

“I apologize, I forgot you don’t know where you’re going. Turn left up at the next light.” Cas gestures ahead with a single finger and his focus shifts to the road in front of them. “How was your afternoon?”

Dean nods absently, resolutely not thinking about his failed attempt to call Sam or the message he couldn’t bring himself to listen to. “Good. Went grocery shopping, had lunch. That’s about it.”

His skin prickles as Cas stares through him as if he can sense Dean isn’t telling him everything. The guilt stirring in his gut makes anger flash hot behind his eyes. He doesn’t owe Cas anything. They’re friends. That’s it.

Then why does he squirm in his seat under the man’s scrutiny?

“Did you sleep well?” Dean forces himself to ask, turning the attention away from himself. He itches to ask how work went too, but too large a part of him is afraid to know.

Cas hums. “Took a while to fall asleep, but I had nice dreams.” He looks over to Dean with a soft smile that has Dean’s stomach twisting up with excitement.

“Good, that’s good,” Dean says after clearing his throat of the desire to ask Cas what his dreams were about. His rule of no chick-flick moments is there for a reason, dammit.

Silence reigns for a few minutes as Dean navigates the busy streets and gets stuck at red light after red light while they watch the myriad of people wandering the sidewalks, out shopping, or simply out for an evening stroll.

Each glance at Cas shows the man fidgeting, picking at the taut denim covering his knee before squeezing his hands between his thighs as if he’s making a conscious effort to be still. Finally, he lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head. “How was your week?” Cas swallows hard and Dean does his best to not let his heart constrict to the point of pain.

He fails.

Castiel’s tense expression and pained tone cut through Dean’s gut like a knife through butter. They barely know each other, but he knows Cas well enough to see that he’s hurting in ways that he has no right to ask about.

Dean nods and forces himself to answer, doing his best to pretend nothing is wrong while he puzzles out a way to be supportive without overstepping.

“Good,” Dean finally says with a nod. “Work mainly, my Uncle Bobby’s been kickin my ass even after I got done kicking my own.” He bites his lip, realizing he said too much and stares straight ahead, hoping that Cas won’t ask.

“Why were you kicking your own ass?” Cas asks, of course he picked up on that slip. His blue eyes bore into the side of Dean’s head as if he can see straight through into Dean’s mind.

He feels exposed, naked, under that stare and his hands tighten on the wheel. “I was mad at myself.” _You were ignoring me._ Dean doesn’t say that, of course, one of the things he’s been trying to take to heart in his recovery is to take responsibility for his actions. Cas was ignoring him because of something _Dean_ had said.

Bobby would be proud if he knew how much thought Dean put into this.

Maybe Sam would be too if Dean ever grows the balls to talk to him.

“Why?” Cas’s simple question creates a spike of terror low in Dean’s gut and he clenches his eyes before he remembers he’s driving and needs to pay attention. “Oh! Turn right here, Popsons is a block up on the left.”

Dean mashes down on the brakes and hurries to make the turn with a slight squeal of tires on the overheated pavement. “On the left?”

Cas nods. “Yes. I apologize, I forgot I supposed to be directing you.”

Dean flashes a smile. “No worries.”

“So, why were you mad at yourself?” Cas returns to the question and Dean’s shoulders slump.

Dammit, Cas.

Dean sucks in a deep breath and prepares himself to probably be a little too honest. “I screwed up, made you mad.”

Cas is staring at him with an arched brow when Dean risks a glance. “You were mad because I was mad?”

“What? No!” That sounds too much like Cas is suggesting that Dean was mad at him. “I was mad because I was stupid and put my foot in my mouth. I made that stupid comment…” he trails off and chews his lip, unsure about the direction the conversation is taking and he clamps his mouth shut before he can put his foot in his mouth again. “I really am sorry about that.”

Cas nods. “I appreciate your apology, Dean.” Cas’s words are stilted but his smile is soft enough to release a fraction of the tension set in his shoulders.

Dean lets out a heavy breath and swallows hard as he turns onto a side street and begins the hunt for an acceptable place to park his baby.

Parallel parking is a bitch.

Dean sucks in a breath as he eyes a space and mentally judges the distance before he pulls up alongside the car in front of it. “Can you just tell me I’m being an ass next time I do something stupid? I’m an idiot and I don’t…”

Cas turns his head and pierces Dean with his stare, making him trail off and swallow hard. “You aren’t an idiot, Dean.”

Dean bites his tongue and forces himself to concentrate as he carefully pulls baby into the parking space and kills the engine with a sigh.

“You aren’t.” Cas reaches out and rests his hand on Dean’s knee.

Dean freezes, afraid to move in the event that he spooks Cas into pulling away. “You just haven’t seen me in my full glory yet,” Dean says with a tone that isn’t entirely joking.

Cas’s frown deepens and he shakes his head. “How about you let me decide that?”

Dean swallows hard. That sounds a little too much like Cas is turning this around on him.

“I’m sorry I ignored you, Dean. My intention was not to hurt you.” Cas squeezes his knee and pulls his hand back.

“I don’t want to hurt you either,” Dean admits, finally risking a glance at the other man.

Cas nods and flashes a hesitant smile. “Then let’s try to communicate better. I promise I won’t ignore you again without telling you why, if you’ll do the same for me.”

Dean hurries to agree with an enthusiastic nod. “Yeah, Cas. I can do that.”

Cas’s smile widens. “Good. Now, dinner?”

“Hell yes,” Dean says in full agreement.

Dean all but tumbles out of baby in his haste to escape the awkward tension that has settled between them. He doesn’t forget his manners though, Ellen would have his hide, and he strides around to the other side of the car to wait for Cas.

They walk shoulder to shoulder along the bustling sidewalk, the warmth radiating from the other man is enough to make Dean’s palms grow clammy and his fingers twitch each time their hands brush together. It would be so easy to turn his wrist and lace their fingers together but he sucks in a deep breath and takes a half step away instead.

Just friends.

That’s what he promised.

His eyes slide closed as they walk and Dean is acutely aware of every millimeter that Cas inches closer. Their shoulders bump again and Dean’s stomach swoops as his blood heats. “Dude,” he forces himself to say as he takes a purposeful step away. “Personal space.”

Cas flushes and clears his throat as he glances down and away, sending tiny daggers stabbing into Dean’s heart. “Apologies.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Dean rushes to say as his cheeks heat and his wounded heart begs him to tell Cas to stand as close as he wants. Dean wouldn’t mind. Not even a little.

Blessedly, the door looms ahead of them and Dean is quick to hurry forward and hold it open as he gestures Cas through with a sheepish smile.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas murmurs, still not meeting Dean’s gaze.

“We order at the counter?” Dean asks once he follows Cas through and stares at the menu board.

Cas nods and chews his lip. “Yeah, is this okay?”

Dean grins. “It’s awesome.” He doesn’t have to lie. The place looks like a fast-food joint, but the tantalizing aroma of seared beef and French fries is beyond compare and the nervous bubble in his stomach deflates when he takes in the place. This is perfect.

“Excellent. It’s been a long time since I’ve been here,” Cas says as they join the line.

Dean skims the menu and sees a half dozen things that all sound equally amazing. The promise of extra bacon and gooey cheese makes his stomach rumble and he tries to muffle the complaint with a hand over his belly. “What would you recommend?”

Cas hums. “I’ve only ever had the all American and the cheeseburger. I think I want to try the true blue though, that sounds good.”

Dean skims the short menu to see what Cas is talking about and he hums thoughtfully. Blue cheese isn’t his favorite and the thought of passing up a bacon cheeseburger is blasphemous. “I think I’m going to get the cowgirl with bacon cheese fries.”

Cas arches a brow and Dean scoffs.

“A man’s gotta treat himself somehow.” If he can’t have beer, then he’s damn well going to eat as much cheese and bacon as he can manage.

“Hi! Can I take your order?” a cheery voice interrupts their staring and Dean gestures Cas forward as he reaches for his wallet.

Cas orders his blue-cheese burger and seasoned fries but waves Dean away when the cashier asks if they’re together. “I got my own,” Cas says like that isn’t a knife through Dean’s gut.

“Oh, okay.” Dean thought he was going to pay for them. Cas said he was broke, didn’t he?

“Sir? I can help you over here,” another cashier says and waves Dean forward.

He goes, steps leaden as his mind reels. This shouldn’t be a big deal. Cas is a grown man, perfectly capable of buying his own food. They hadn’t even discussed how they were doing this and Dean feels a flash of guilt for not making it clear that he had planned on paying.

Cas didn’t need to spend his money. Not when Dean was the one who asked him to have dinner with him.

“I, uh, I’ll have the cowgirl and bacon cheese fries,” Dean manages to stammer when the cashier looks at him expectantly. He gives him his order number after Dean pays and he turns around to find Cas.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Dean says, leaning into Cas’s space to whisper.

Cas shrugs. “It’s not fair for you to have to pay for me.”

“I don’t _have_ to, I want to,” Dean admits, still leaning a little too close. “I know you said you don’t…”

“Dean, let me make my own decisions,” Cas snaps and puts a few inches between them.

He sucks in a breath through his nose and nods as his stomach clenches. “Yeah, sorry.” The tension from outside is back and Dean closes his eyes, praying to a deity he isn’t certain he believes in that he stops managing to put his foot in his mouth where Cas is concerned.

Cas offers him a soft smile but whatever he is about to say gets interrupted by his number being called. “I’m going to find a table,” he says once he has his tray and gestures to the seating area with one hand.

“Sure.” Dean smiles halfheartedly before pinching a frown and turning back toward the counter. A minute ticks by ever so slowly before his number is called and he can search for Cas with his tray in hand.

The muscles of his shoulders strain as he approaches and the twinge that’s been building in his lower back all last week flares to life with the tension he carries as he approaches the table Cas selected.

“Dean, I’m sorry I snapped at you, I didn’t mean…” Cas starts but Dean holds up a hand.

“Hey man, it’s alright. I get it. I should have asked instead of assuming,” Dean says, his voice barely wavering even as his throat tightens with doubt.

Cas cheeks flush and he turns his gaze to the tray in front of him. “I made my financial situation clear enough, I can’t blame you for assuming.”

Castiel’s voice is barely a mutter that has Dean’s stomach souring. Cas did make his situation known, at least well enough for Dean to understand that he can’t afford frivolous expenses like this. He forces himself to nod, not trusting the answer to the question on the tip of his tongue. _How? How is he affording this?_ Dean couldn’t stand to know what Cas is going without to pay for his meal, or what Cas might have done to earn the extra money.

He’s afraid to know.

Cas seems oblivious to Dean’s inner turmoil and moans decadently around his first mouthful of burger. His blue eyes slide closed and Dean’s mouth goes dry as he stares.

Who knew that watching someone eat could be so erotic?

He shifts in his seat as Cas carries on, chewing with happiness as tiny sounds escape his throat and go straight to Dean’s dick. “You need some time alone with that?” He forces himself to joke but he knows his voice is strained.

Cas blinks open his eyes and smiles around his mouthful before swallowing hard. “This makes me very happy.” He grins and butterflies swarm in Dean’s stomach.

He huffs a laugh and shakes his head, pretending to be unaffected as he smiles and lifts his bacon cheeseburger to his mouth and takes a large bite. “Holy crap,” he mutters with his mouth full, barely containing the food within.

Cas wrinkles his nose and shakes his head as Dean shrugs.

“Wha? It’s fantastic,” Dean continues, crumbles tumbling onto his lip before he pushes them back into his mouth.

“You’re disgusting.” Cas shakes his head with a scowl that morphs into a laugh when Dean sticks out his tongue and wrinkles his nose. “So disgusting.”

Dean grins, still chewing, and preens under Castiel’s laughter. The sound is low and rich enough to curl his toes but better still is the tingly feeling through his limbs that comes with getting Cas to let his guard down and laugh.

Dean would be happy to make a fool of himself to see that look more often.

The rest of their meal passes with teasing laughter and silly conversation that makes Dean feel years younger, more like he had when he still had hopes and dreams for the future. Before he had to grow up even though he had still been just a kid.

By the time Cas has pilfered the last remains of Dean’s long cold bacon and cheese fries and their drinks are empty, Dean realizes he isn’t ready for this to end. Their heads have been leaning closer together as they’ve talked across the table and Dean is all too aware of where Cas’s knee has somehow become pressed against his.

“Hey, you wanna take a drive? Get out of the city for a bit?” Dean asks, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat as he braces himself for Castiel’s answer.

A slow smile spreads over Cas’s features, lightening the weight of his fears. “I would like that.” Cas reaches across the table covers Dean’s hand with his long fingers and warm palm.

Dean’s pulse skitters and races excitedly as Cas smiles softly at him and squeezes his hand before pulling away as if nothing happened.

Cas stands and gathers his tray, arching a brow at Dean when he sits frozen in his seat, still staring at the space where Cas had been sitting. “Dean?”

His entire body tenses and he lets out a rushed apology as he gathers his things and follows Cas to get rid of their trays.

A few quiet moments later, they’re both tucked safely inside Baby with the rumble of her engine bridging the silence. Dusk has engulfed the city, the streaks of pink and yellow lighting up the deep blue of the sky above are beautiful but he knows the show won’t last very long.

Soon, darkness will encroach and cast everything in shadow to mark the end of another day.

“So, uh, there’s a park out by my uncle’s house that I’ve driven by a few times. I was thinking maybe we could go there?” _And watch the stars_ , Dean silently tacks on without glancing over. “What time do you need to be home?”

He can see Cas’s shrug out of his periphery. “I don’t need to be back at any particular time. The park sounds nice.” Cas flashes him a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and Dean feels the space between them like an impassable crevasse.

They lapse into peaceful silence while Dean navigates the busy streets and Cas stares absently out the window. Eventually, the dense buildings begin to spread out and the crowds lessen. If he didn’t know better, Dean might be fooled into thinking they were in the middle of a small town instead of a major city.

“That’s where my uncle lives,” Dean says as he gestures to the small ranch style home as they drive past it. “He moved out here about six years ago from South Dakota to retire. Although, I’m not sure I’d call starting a new garage to be retiring.” Dean huffs with amusement at his uncle’s inability to stay still and Ellen’s easy entertainment of her husband’s antics.

Hell, she all but did the same thing with starting a new Roadhouse.

Old habits must die hard.

“He retired to…do more work?” Cas quirks a puzzled brow and Dean shrugs.

“Old coot can’t stand not being busy,” Dean says easily as the houses fly by outside the window. “Got bored after about a month and had to do something with his time before Aunt Ellen murdered him.”

An amused huff escapes Cas’s lips and he nods. “They sound lovely.”

Dean grins with an exaggerated nod. “Don’t know where I’d be without them.” Actually, he does. He’d be on the street or in jail at the rate he was going. “Ah, here’s the park,” Dean says before his mind can wander too far down that road. He’s here in California, trying to get his shit together after Bobby literally knocked some sense into him.

Showing up late and ass drunk at his father’s graveside service was something Bobby just wasn’t going to tolerate.

“This is beautiful,” Cas says, his voice tinged with wonder as he presses his nose against the window. The lights of the city stretch beneath them, twinkling against the dark backdrop of the bay. The waning light of the sun shrouds the trees around them in peaceful shadow and Dean’s heart swoops as he watches the wide-eyed wonder coloring Cas’s features.

“Wanna get out?” Dean asks, stomach squirming when Cas throws him a blinding smile and clamors out of the car. He follows with an amused huff and stretches his arms high over his head with a groan.

When he straightens, Cas looks away a little too quickly and Dean can’t help his pleased smirk. He’s certain if there were more light, he’d be able to see the flush of pink surely coloring Cas’s cheeks from being caught staring.

Instead of commenting, he turns his gaze skyward and breathes deep as his smirk softens into a smile. The stars overhead are bright and the nighttime air is cool, peaceful. He turns toward Cas and gestures toward Baby. “Sit with me?”

Cas nods and carefully follows Dean onto the hood of the car where they stretch out side by side. The inches between them feel far longer with the way Dean’s fingers itch to reach toward the other man.

He doesn’t.

“Thanks for coming up here with me,” he says instead, turning his head so that he can meet Cas’s gaze. In the dim light, the blue of his eyes is lost but the soft smile Castiel wears is easily seen.

“Thank you for inviting me.” Cas’s fingers toy with the loose edge of Dean’s shirt and he shifts to face Dean as his hand travels closer.

Dean’s heart races faster with each centimeter that Cas’s fingers move until he’s forced to clear his throat and will down the urge to lean over and capture Cas’s lips with his.

Cas jerks back and increases the space between them with a muffled apology that Dean chooses to ignore. “Stars are great out here, huh?” He stares upward at the scattered bright points of light contrasting against the deep navy of the nearly night sky.

“They are,” Cas agrees as he folds his hands under his head. “You mentioned before that your uncle wants you to call your brother, have you thought about doing it?” Cas turns his head as he speaks as if his words don’t make Dean’s stomach clench and twist hard enough for bile to rise in his throat.

He sucks in a deep breath and closes his eyes. “I, uh, I did. Well, sort of. I hung up.”

Dean winces as he turns his head, resigned to see disappointment flit over Cas’s features. Even in the near darkness, he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to miss the way this blue eyes will widen pitifully as Cas frowns.

Except, that isn’t what Dean see and his heart flutters as he takes in the gently upturned corners of Cas’s lips.

“That’s great, Dean.” Cas’s smile spreads even as Dean huffs and shakes his head.

“Yeah, I chickened out and hung up on the only family I got. Sure sounds great.” Dean glares at the stars as his head swims and his gut churns.

Cas leans onto his elbow to meet Dean’s gaze. “That’s one step closer to talking to him though. Did he try to call you back?”

Dean lets out a heavy breath. “He left a message.”

“And?” Cas arches a brow and scoots closer.

“I haven’t listened,” Dean admits, his voice small and frail as he carefully meets Cas’s eyes.

“You… haven’t?” Cas’s brows furrow as he shakes his head, his tone high and weighted.

Dean shakes his head. “Too chicken-shit, remember?”

“Give me your phone,” Cas demands as he holds out his hand expectantly.

Dean’s lips twist downward and his eyes narrow. “Why?”

“We’re going to listen to that message together.” Cas wiggles his fingers and doesn’t back down.

Dean blinks, heart hammering in his chest as he stares at Castiel’s outstretched hand. Nearly every nerve ending in his body demands he hide his phone and refuse Cas’ simple demand, yet his traitorous hand slowly complies and hands over the phone.

Cas scoots closer, mindful of his boots on Baby’s paint until their legs are pressed together and his chest is against Dean’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do this alone, Dean,” Cas says quietly as he thumbs through Dean’s phone until he finds his voicemails.

Dean sucks in a shuddering breath and nods as he bites his lip painfully. He never imagined that Cas would be willing to deal with his shit, not like this. Being casual friends would have been enough, but this close, Cas is beautiful, inside and out. The faint whiff of coconut from his tousled brown hair has Dean’s mouth watering and the wide set of his shoulders sets Dean’s heart to hammering for reasons other than his pathetic nerves. “Yeah?”

His voice is a mere squeak but Cas still jerks his head up with a sympathetic smile as he presses play.

Sam’s voice drifts between them, deeper than Dean remembers but just as strong.

 _“Dean? This… this is Sam.”_ Sam huffs bitterly into the phone and Dean can almost picture the scowl that matches. _“But you know that I guess. Bobby said you might call. I miss you, man. Please, call me back. I don’t care about before, I just want to know you’re okay. I want my brother back.”_

Sam’s voice cracks at the end and Dean’s heart breaks along with it even as he lets out a huff of wet laughter. He wipes his eyes and lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding when the screen goes dark.

Cas is a warm presence next to him, buoying his spirits as they revolve through every emotion he can name and some that he can’t. “He, he wants to talk to me,” Dean mutters, shaking his head as a timid smile creeps over his features.

A bubble of light fills his chest, straining against the tense confines of his flesh and eventually bursting forth in a fit of manic laughter.

Cas smiles fondly, graciously allowing Dean to fall apart and put himself back together as the sky grows ever darker overhead. “Did you think he wouldn’t?”

Dean shakes his head and wipes at his eyes again, sniffing back the emotion threatening to block his nose. “Why would he? Cas, I’ve been a mess since before he left,” Dean trails off and shakes his head, the familiar pit opening low in his stomach once again as he remembers Sam’s shouted words and reddened cheeks the last time they saw each other. “He has every reason to hate me.”

“No.” Cas opens Dean’s phone and replays Sam’s message. Hearing those handfuls of words again does little to soothe the ache in Dean’s chest but Cas still stares, his eyes bright even in the dark. “Does that sound like someone who hates you?”

Dean sucks in a shaky breath and presses his lips together.

“Does it?” Cas demands, waving the phone in front of Dean’s face. “Because to me, it sounds like a young man who wants you in his life. A young man who has already forgiven you for whatever you did before.”

Dean sniffs, turning his head away to stare at the city lights glowing below them only so can hide for a moment from Castiel’s stare.

“Do you want me to be there when you call him?” Cas says and Dean’s head snaps toward him.

His neck twinges from the sudden motion and his jaw drops open slightly. “You… you’d do that?”

Cas nods with a faint smile. “Of course, we’re friends, right? Friends support each other. I know Sam is important to you, and if I can help, I want to.”

Dean’s expression crumbles as the moisture in the corners of his eyes breaks free and he leans into Cas’s warmth. Strong arms wrap around his shoulders and Dean lets himself cling. “Thank you,” Dean whispers against the soft fabric of Castiel’s shirt. The scent of coconut invades his senses and his eyes slide closed as he cherishes the closeness of another human being.

“You’re welcome,” Cas says as he squeezes Dean closer and starts to pull back.

Dean lets him, but Cas’s absence strikes him soul-deep and he fights to keep from leaning in again. “So, when do we do this?” Dean feigns a laugh and wipes his eyes as he reaches for his phone.

“It’s not too late right now, don’t you think?” Cas asks with a pleased little smile that has Dean feeling braver.

“Now?” He asks, eyes going wide as he glances between Cas and his phone.

Cas shrugs. “You two have waited long enough, don’t you think?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, Cas. Yeah we have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between the two of them, who do you think is going to give up this idea of not dating first?


	6. That day that isn't (is) a date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas is struggling and he reaches out to Dean before he can stop himself. He could have walked across the hall and found Meg for comfort, but no... now he's found himself in an even bigger mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is a day late, I had an accident at work and burned myself pretty bad so my editing progress got delayed. Anyway, I'm okay... just hurting, and this chapter is EXTRA long. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Also, just FYI, the end of this chapter isn't fluffy and the problem won't be resolved until chapter 8 so yeah...sorry.

A dark cloud follows Castiel as he stomps his way up the stairs. He’s earlier than usual, uncaffeinated with a rumpled hundred dollars in his pocket and an ache in his ass.

What really bothers him though is how his night ended.

He screwed up.

Badly.

“Fuck,” he sputters as he jams his key in the lock and nearly misses. He tilts his head toward the water-stained ceiling and closes his eyes to count to five.

It’s a wonder his Thursday regular didn’t seem to care that Cas had moaned Dean’s name when his clever hands had Cas’s dick spurting white and sticky over the brick wall he had been pressed against.

For a moment, just a moment, Cas had closed his eyes and let his mind wander to green eyes and freckles, pretending. The rough drag of the bricks on his forearms, the constriction of his pants down around this thighs, the rough scratch of stubble on the back of his shirt as his regular placed one small kiss after another to the strip of skin on the back of his neck.

Nausea roils in his gut as he finally manages to let himself into his apartment and a fresh wave of self-loathing washes over him. The tenderness with which Mick treats him is somehow worse than the men who simply want to use his body for their gain.

And yes, he learned the man’s name tonight.

When he’d offered him $200 to go back to his place and spend the night.

He sucks in a deep breath and lets the air out through his nose in a rush as he forces his hand to slow and close the door gently before locking himself inside and chaining the door. As expected, the apartment is dark save for the small nightlight Meg insists on keeping in the hall, a sure sign that she’s already home.

He gave Mick a fake name, of course, the one Meg made him choose when they first started doing this. _Rule One, Clarence. Don’t ever tell anyone your real name._ The rule has always served him well but it leaves a hollow feeling in his chest.

Mick has always been kind to him, he almost feels back lying to him.

_He shouldn’t._

He shivers despite the heat in the building, the air conditioning is broken again, and he hurries toward the shower and sets the spray to nearly scalding before he steps in and lets the weak stream of water cascade over him.

Wetness that he can’t entirely blame on his shower makes his eyes burn as he scrubs himself nearly raw, needing more than ever to wash off the filth of strangers' hands on him.

Too soon, the water starts to cool and the pipes rattle their protest at being forced to do their job. He grunts in agreeing sympathy, a bitter smile twitching at the corners of his lips. He’s tired too.

Still, he scrubs more soap into his skin and lets the water wash away the reminders of his job.

Meg is right. He needs to get out.

How can he though? Especially now? Meg hasn’t been able to work a full night in almost a week and she’s barely earning enough to buy the drugs that keep her pain under control.

He’s enough of a realist to know that she doesn’t have much time left.

It’s all up to him now.

His mood slowly swirls down the drain along with the soap being coldly rinsed from his body, washing away the touch of strangers and leaving behind a hollow ache in his chest. Tonight wasn’t any worse than normal. In some ways, it was better, but that doesn’t explain the despair threatening to swallow him whole. He shakes his head and smacks the wet wall of the shower with a strangled cry of frustration before viciously turning the water off and ripping his towel off the bar.

He should have gone home with Mick.

He shows his skin no mercy as he scrubs himself dry while thoughts of Meg and his long lost brother fill his mind. Why he’s thinking about Gabriel right now is a frustration mystery and he blinks the burn from his eyes. He hasn’t seen Gabe in years, not since before he got sick and ruined his chance at college.

Still, he can’t help but wonder if his brother ever thinks of his, wonders about him.

Did Gabriel ever try to find him?

It’s no matter. He left that life behind years ago, he can’t go back. Not anymore. It’s too late.

He scrubs his teeth vigorously and swishes mouthwash for a minute too long before tumbling into bed without bothering to find clothes.

Even though it was days ago, the warmth of Dean’s arms wrapped around his shoulders still burns fresh in his mind along with the crisp and manly scent of Dean’s hair. It’s probably just Old Spice, but the smell is so _Dean_ that he wants to bath in it until he forgets everything else.

He rolls onto his side and wraps his arms across his chest to grip his shoulders and his knees draw up naturally as he tucks his chin.

“What is wrong with me?” He questions the darkness, blinking in search of something, anything. His heart aches with the depth of his sigh and he closes his eyes to force himself to breathe through his nose.

Imaginary weight crushes down on him as he curls into himself further. Taking care of Meg, paying the rent, groceries. These are the important things. He can’t afford to lose focus.

Besides, it doesn’t matter what he wants. Yet, his body uncurls without a thought and slips from the bed with a shuttering breath.

His phone is hard to find in the dark, still in the pocket of his discarded jeans, but with enough determination, the cheap little device is soon clutched in his hands and he squints against the light of the screen.

That’s the funny thing about darkness, you wish for just enough light to see, but when you get it, you can see even less than before.

He finds Dean’s contact with slitted eyes and carefully punches out a text. Having to hit each number multiple times to get the correct letter is tiresome, he’s had this phone since he was kicked out of his parent’s house over a decade ago.

It’s a wonder it works at all after so many years.

_To Dean: Are you awake?_

He hits send before he can stop himself, his lip pinched between his teeth as he waits for a response.

The uneasy squirming in his stomach increases as time goes by and he quickly buries himself under his blanket to stem the shivers threatening to overtake him.

Dean should be asleep still, it’s barely past three, he shouldn’t be bothering him.

He sucks in a breath through his nose and lets out a frustrated groan as he shakes his head. Dean doesn’t need to be dragged into his problems.

Another minute passes before his phone pings and Cas’s heart leaps into his throat.

_To Cas: Yeah?_

Cas lets out a heavy breath as his stomach sinks deeper as he slowly types out an apology.

_To Dean: I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you._

Dean’s response is quick to come.

_To Cas: Something wrong?_

Cas lets out a heavy breath that puffs his cheeks as he tilts his chin toward the ceiling.

_To Dean: Just a rough night at work. Sorry to bother you._

His chest constricts as he slowly types his message and his eyes close of their own volition as he presses send and sets his phone aside and pulls the blanket over his face to hide the guilt gnawing at his insides.

The sudden sound of his ringtone cutting through the quiet has his heart jolting into a wild rhythm and his body scrambling for his phone.

It takes him a couple of tries but he eventually finds the right button through sheer luck and he presses the phone to his ear with his breath frozen in his lungs.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas closes his eyes and swallows hard.

“Hey, man. Talk to me,” Dean says, voice gruff with sleep.

Cas forces a deep breath and falls back against his mattress to blink upward at the darkened ceiling. “I don’t know what to say.” The pattering of his heart is nearly painful as silence stretches over the line and nausea churns in his gut.

Dean’s eventual yawn is muffled and the rustling of sheets can be heard as he adjusts his hold on the phone. “How about start by telling me what happened at work?”

His mind races, trying to decide what he can tell Dean without revealing too much. “I had a customer who wanted more than I could give.” He shakes his head and closes his eyes, bracing himself for the inevitable questions. This is as close to the truth as he can tell Dean and it isn’t a lie, not really. He could see the look in Mick’s eyes as clearly as he’s seen the same look in Dean’s.

 _That_ is the reason he turned down the man’s offer.

The lust in Mick’s gentle blue eyes made his throat thicken and the man’s tender touch made Castiel’s skin crawl with the wrongness of it. Somehow, everything felt too personal and he suspects that he knows why. “I can usually handle these things better, but he just really got to me for some reason.” He isn’t built to use people or play with their feelings.

“Pushy customers are the worst,” Dean agrees. “Need some cheering up?”

Cas shakes his head against the pillow. “I don’t know what you can do,” he says with a sigh. Pushy isn’t exactly the word for Mick, too nice is the problem. Too tender, too covetous. “It’s just… exhausting.”

Dean hums his response. “How about,” Dean trails off as he shifts, “you let me buy you an early dinner.”

“Dean…” Cas starts but he’s interrupted.

“I know you need to get some sleep, and I gotta go to work. But I can come pick you up when I’m done. Say, five?” Dean hurries to ask and his pleading tone gives Cas pause.

“Besides, I gotta tell you about how I’m supposed to meet with Sam on Saturday, right?” Dean adds with excitement. “Bobby is even letting me cut out early.”

A chuckle escapes unbidden as a smile creeps across his face. Having dinner with Dean does sound nice. “Fine, but it’s not a date.” Returning to the phrase that is becoming increasingly familiar loosens the knot in his chest.

“Of course not,” Dean says hurriedly but Cas isn’t convinced by his words. The dismissive lilt to his tone and the nervous chuckle that follows makes Castiel’s stomach squirm and his smile grow.

“Five o’clock?” Cas confirms, already feeling lighter.

“Five o’clock,” Dean says with a smile in his voice. “You okay if I go back to sleep?”

Cas smiles softly and his heart flutters. “I’m feeling better now. Thank you, Dean.” That isn’t a lie either and his wide yawn proves it.

“Any time, Cas.” Dean’s yawn follows, the sound barely muffled by his hand.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll see you tonight,” Cas says, already starting to feel tired now that so much of the tension has drained from his body.

“Night, Cas,” Dean mutters before ending the call, leaving Cas alone to his thoughts.

He takes a deep breath and sets his phone aside, bone-deep weariness settling in just as the sky begins to grey with the coming dawn.

Sleep follows not long after, colored by visions of green eyes and plush lips with a whiskey smooth voice muttering softly in his ear. He sighs and rolls over, hugging his blanket to his chest, pretending to catch the faint whiff of manly spice that Dean carries with him.

For a moment, he pretends that he can have what his heart truly desires, and in his haze, he can’t be bothered to correct his wayward thoughts.

\---

“You goin out with lover boy again?” Meg asks from across the table as Cas drops into his chair wearing nothing more than a pair of boxers. The legs wobble but he trusts that the wood will hold even as he makes a mental note to tighten the screws later.

They may have fished their mismatched set out of a dumpster, but he knows his way around tools well enough. His father saw to that before learning his son was _some kind of fairy faggot_ and kicked him out on his ass.

He grunts the affirmative as he wraps his long fingers around his steaming mug of tea and blinks blearily at his best friend as he shoves thoughts of his father from his mind.

He doesn’t know why his mind went there, but he doesn’t need to think too deeply about that asshole. Ever.

“So, he taking you somewhere nice? Maybe out for steak?” Meg prods in her husky voice, dark curls hanging in her face enough to hide the dark circles under her eyes. “Mmm, haven’t had a good steak in ages. Save me some?”

Cas arches a brow and takes a sip of the steaming liquid. “You think you could keep it down?”

Meg huffs and waves a dismissive hand before nibbling on her buttered toast. “Don’t kill my hopes and dreams, Clarence.”

He smirks and shakes his head fondly as he drinks more of his tea. His stomach rumbles and he checks the clock. Dean should be here in an hour. He needs to shower again and brush his teeth, get dressed. “I don’t know where he’s taking me.”

“Oohhh, so it is a hot date. I thought as much when I heard you stumbling around so early.” Meg takes another nibble of her toast with a pleased smirk. She looks better this afternoon, less sallow and her brown eyes seem brighter than they have in days.

Cas sighs. “I’ll be back in time for work.”

Meg huffs and shakes her head. “Just enjoy your date.”

“It’s not a date,” Cas grumbles, cheeks flushing with warmth as he clutches his mug tighter. “I can’t date and do what we do. It wouldn’t be fair to Dean.”

Meg levels him with her stare. “And leading him on is fair?” She leans forward and holds up her hand when Cas opens his mouth to protest. “I know, I know, you’ve told him that you don’t date. That don’t mean he’s gonna quit hoping. Besides, maybe he’d be okay with it?”

Cas shakes his head and narrows his eyes. “We’re friends, that’s all.” If only he could convince his heart of that fact, then he’d be fine.

Meg rolls her eyes and pops the last bite of toast into her mouth. “Keep telling yourself that, darling. Maybe you’ll eventually believe it.”

Cas huffs and takes a deep drink of his tea, ignoring the faint burn as the hot liquid slides down his throat. “I need to get ready. Will you be okay?”

“Me?” Meg grins, pressing a dainty hand to her chest. “I’m going to be fine. Might even go out tonight.”

He turns to stare, brows knitted in concern. “You don’t have to. I can earn…”

“Castiel, please. I can’t just sit here all the time, dwelling on what’s to come and letting you take care of me. I _need_ to do what I can while I still have the strength.” Meg fixes him with her most pleading look, her eyes wide and lips pursed.

That isn’t fair. She knows he can’t deny her anything when she’s staring at him like that. “Are you sure?”

She nods earnestly. “I’m sure. Take your time with your boyfriend. Enjoy yourself.”

“Not my boyfriend,” Cas grumbles weakly as he washes out his mug and sets the chipped ceramic on the drying rack. He doesn’t miss Meg’s dramatic eyeroll as she flops onto the couch without clearing her plate and turns on the boxy TV that sits on the floor. They only get the free local channels, but he’s always been a sucker for PBS anyway.

Meg _says_ she just likes the noise, but he’s noticed the way she perks up when Rick Steves comes on. Which just so happens to be in ten minutes. “Go get yourself prettied up. Your eyes look stunning when you wear liner, I bet Dean would love that look on you.”

Cas rolls his eyes. She probably isn’t wrong but he isn’t about to find out. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Your loss,” Meg quips as she flips through the handful of channels they get until she lands on the right one to watch their favorite travel guide explore Europe one city at a time.

Someday, he wants to visit some of those places. He can almost imagine what it might be like to tour the ruins of Pompeii with the mighty Vesuvius in the background or settle into a seat in the Piazza San Marco and listen to dueling orchestras battle for the largest crowd. Or wake up to see the Matterhorn in all its snowy glory.

He sighs, pulling himself from his fantasy and returning to the life he has at hand.

For now, his friendship with Dean has become the bright spot in his life and he’s grateful for what he has. He has enough, and what he has is precious. He isn’t going to squander the time he has chasing some fantasy life that he has no hope of attaining.

He trudges into the bathroom and makes short work of his shower and scrubs his teeth quickly, knowing he’ll be eating within the hour doesn’t inspire him to be too particular. By the time he’s dressed in his favorite pair of well-worn skinny jeans and a snug tee with a loose button-down left open over top, his phone chimes with a message from Dean.

_To Cas: Just got out of the shower. Be there in twenty?_

He smiles down at his phone and types out an answer as quickly as he can with the old number pad.

_To Dean: I’m looking forward to it_

The excited flutter in his stomach vehemently denies his urging that he doesn’t date, that this isn’t a date, but he lets himself get carried away for a moment and hums to himself as he runs his fingers through his hair, tricking the unruly strands into some sort of order.

He looks good, he knows he does. That is one reason he started selling himself, he liked the attention men would offer him and he liked the power he felt when they wanted him badly enough to pay.

Now though? The appeal has worn off and he just feels used.

“Hey, Clarence!” Meg shouts from the couch in the living room. “He’s in Glasgow! Hurry up!”

Cas huffs a smile. Somehow, Meg always has impeccable timing when he’s starting to brood. He gives himself one more once over and flashes a smile at his reflection before grabbing his boots off the floor and heading out to the living room where he plops down next to Meg.

“How much longer you got?” Meg asks as she drops her head onto his shoulder and snuggles closer.

He instinctively wraps an arm over her shoulders and draws her near, the settling sense of home flooding over him at the familiar contact. “Twenty minutes, maybe a little less.”

“Good, you’ll have time to start the next episode with me,” Meg says with a smile in her voice.

“You want me to make you anything to eat before I go?” Cas asks before pressing a chaste kiss into her dark locks.

Meg huffs and shakes her head against his shoulder. “I’ll get something later.”

Cas gives a doubtful huff but doesn’t challenge her. There is no point. Instead, he settles in closer and leans his head over hers to get a better view of the small television. The picture is fuzzy in the way that old TVs always have been but the sound is clear, and he’s more than happy to listen to Rick Steves’s soothing voice excitedly explain the culture of whatever small town he finds himself in.

“You should invite Dean up here.” Meg’s voice pulls him out of the show and he lifts his head to stare down at her with narrowed eyes. She blinks at him innocently and pries herself off his shoulder to roll her eyes when he continues to stare with wide eyes and a slack jaw. “If he’s going to be on your life, I want to meet him.”

Cas gapes, mind whirling. He can’t invite Dean _here_ , to this little dump he lives in. Impossible!

Meg lets out a heavy breath and rolls her eyes so hard that Cas fears they may get stuck. “He’s already seen the building, he knows we live in a dump. I doubt he’s going to judge.”

Cas glances around the sparsely decorated room full of second-hand everything. The found dinette set, the couch that was already here when they moved in… a gift from the previous tenant who hadn’t wanted to lug it down four flights of stairs. He suspects the couch may have been here since it was new, once upon a time, but decades of abuse have taken their toll and the faded floral print that was once vibrant has now nearly become obscure.

The space is clean, he’s seen to that. Meg has always been a bit of a slob, but she’s more messy than dirty and he’s willing to forgive her for that. Besides, it doesn’t take much to clean up after just the two of them.

“Seriously.” She sits up further and gives him a pointed look. “I want to meet this guy who has been chipping through your icy defenses. I wanna make sure he’s good enough for you.”

Cas huffs and shakes his head. “You just want to ogle him.”

Meg’s laugh is clear and bright, warming his heart with her adorable little nose crinkle. “If he’s as handsome as you say, can you blame a girl?”

“He’s mine, you can’t have him.” Cas narrows his eyes and presses his mouth into a flat line to hide his growing smile.

“You’re the one who keeps saying you’re not dating. Sounds like he’s fair game to me,” Meg teases with a glint in her eyes that spells trouble. “Invite him up, pretty please.” She clasps her hands and bats her lashes at him. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

Cas shakes his head and purses his lips, still fighting back a smile. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he says with exasperation in his tone even as he digs in his pocket for his phone. “Fine, I’ll ask him to come up.”

_To Dean: Would you be opposed to coming upstairs for a minute?_

_Meg wants to meet you._

“There. He’s been asked.” Cas slouches against the back of the couch, his heart hammering in his chest as he waits for a response.

Meg grins and flops next to him. “Thank you.”

He huffs a loud breath through his nose and turns his head to smile fondly at his friend as he reaches for her hand. “You’re welcome.”

A few minutes pass in silence before Dean texts back, and Cas can’t help his smile when he reads Dean’s answer.

_To Cas: Be happy to. Just gotta find a place to park_

_Which unit is yours?_

_To Dean: 3-08. Sorry about the stairs._

_To Cas: Be right up_ _😊_

“He’s on his way up,” Cas says, with not a small amount of resignation in his tone.

Meg grins and squeals with delight. “Finally!”

“Be nice,” Cas warns, fixing her with a hardened stare.

She quickly moves her hand over her chest and grins. “Cross my heart.”

He arches a skeptical brow and pushes from the couch. The nervous energy coursing through him demands movement and he rubs his hands together as he lets out a deep breath. This was a mistake. Letting Dean and Meg meet is a mistake.

He paces nervously and barely holds back a startled whine when a sound knock comes from the door. He spins, staring wide-eyed as his heart hammers. “Meg! No!” He cries as his friend jumps up from her place on the couch and all but bounces toward the door.

“Why, hello, handsome,” Meg says as she pulls open the door just as Cas reaches her. Her voice is low and husky and her grin salacious as she ushers Dean inside.

“Uh, hello,” Dean says, eyeing Meg curiously before he locks eyes with Castiel and smiles. “You must be Meg?” He turns his charming smile toward Meg with renewed confidence in his voice and holds out his hand.

“Guilty as accused.” Meg smiles as wide as she lets Dean take her hand and draw her knuckles to his lips where be places a feather-light kiss before winking at Castiel. “Such a gentleman,” Meg coos seductively. “Clarence here has told me all about you.” She turns and pats Cas on the shoulder before wrapping her arm around his back.

“Oh, really?” Dean questions, looking between them with amusement as he stealthily moves away from her. “Clarence?”

“We should be going, Dean.” Cas pulls away from Meg, pretending his cheeks aren’t heating steadily. The sway of Meg’s hips is impeccable, her smile perfectly seductive. There is no doubt that she is a beautiful woman but Dean barely spared her a glance.

No, Dean’s perfectly green eyes are trained so intently on him that the moisture in Cas’s mouth evaporates and he nearly has to close his eyes against the onslaught.

“What’s the hurry?” Meg drags him back. “Dean, can I get you anything to drink?”

Dean looks between Cas’s rosy cheeks and Meg’s predatory grin with the beginnings of a smirk before he shakes his head. “No, thanks.” He flashes Cas a grin that can mean absolutely nothing good before opening his mouth again. “But I would _love_ to hear about how you and Cas became friends.”

Meg’s grin widens and Cas steps forward to grabs Dean’s arm and drag him from the apartment. “Oh, the stories I could tell you…”

“Come on, Dean. Meg, you met him. That’s what you wanted and now we have to go.” Cas waves over his shoulder as he drags Dean into the hall to the sound of Meg’s laughter.

“She seems nice,” Dean says with a chuckle. “Not sure what you’re all worked up about.”

Cas huffs and shakes his head as he nudges Dean toward the stairs. “You only say that because you don’t know her.”

“But she’s your best friend?” Dean turns his head to question, nearly missing the first step. He recovers quickly but his cheeks redden as he stumbles forward.

Cas nods. “She is, and I love her, but she can be a bit crude.”

Dean barks a boisterous laugh. “And you think that would scare me away?”

Their feet are loud as they clomp down the stairs and Cas wishes, not for the first time since he had to throw away his sneakers, that he had something lighter to wear than these damn boots. He looks like a preppy douche bag wearing these tan things that are some sort of bastard child of steel-toed construction shoes and combat boots.

Neither of which he’s qualified to wear.

His clients seem to enjoy the look though, which counts for something at least.

“Just wait until she starts feeling you up, see how well you can handle crude, then,” Cas snarks as he rolls his eyes, not that Dean can see, but the action is completely justified, nonetheless.

“She’d do that?” Dean glances over his shoulder with pinched brows and parted lips.

“And more.” Cas nods, pressing his lips into a flat line and looking at Dean sideways as he follows down the last flight.

Dean turns on the landing, chest heaving with the exertion of their descent and stares with wide eyes. “But you two never…” he trails off, dragging his last syllable as he rotates his wrist in a circle while pointing toward Cas and shaking his head.

Cas shakes his head, a sly smile starting to grow. “She tried for ages until she learned that I am unequivocally gay.” Cas shrugs, fondly remembering those early days when they would tease each other mercilessly without any intention of taking things further. “She’s like the big sister I never wanted.”

Dean nods, an unduly pleased look flashing over his features but he schools his expression before Cas can be certain of what he sees. “That’s good. Very good.”

Cas huffs, chest swelling with inexplicable pleasure at the pink tinge to Dean’s cheeks. “So, where are we going?” He asks before the smile on Dean’s face can soften, before he’s too tempted to take a step closer and break his own rules.

Dean chuckles and rubs the back of his neck before nodding. “So, uh, Sam told me about this place down by the water. You like tapas?”

“Tapas? Isn’t that usually expensive?” Cas’s stomach squirms at the idea. Dean offered to buy him dinner, but Cas doesn’t mean for Dean to spend much on him. “I would be happy with jack in the box.”

Dean huffs and shakes his head. “I know, but I’ve been wanting to try Tapas for years. Don’t got anything like that in Kansas.”

Cas arches a brow and shakes his head. “You’re sure?” He can’t help the way his nerves flair and butterflies explode in his veins at the pout Dean gives him. He breathes out through his nose. “Alright.”

“Yes!” Dean cheers, pumping his fist dramatically.

“It’s not a date!” Cas reminds, his words stern despite the pleased curl of his lips as he pushes Dean through the flimsy door and onto the street.

“I know, I know. You don’t date.” Dean claps him on the shoulder playfully and uses the leverage to steer him toward the gleaming black beast of a car parked along the curb.

Cas can’t help reaching out and running his fingers lightly over the smooth metal. “Beautiful, as always, Baby.” His gaze flashes to Dean quickly enough to catch the starry-eyed look Dean gives him as he watches Cas give the car a loving pat before climbing in.

“So, you’ve never had tapas,” Cas says conversationally as Dean starts the engine.

“Uncultured swine like me? Nope.” Dean pulls out onto the road.

Cas rolls his eyes. “You are not swine, Dean.” One of the first things he noticed about Dean Winchester, after his obscenely unfair beauty, was how eager he is to put himself down. “You’re a good man.”

Dean huffs and shakes his head. “Whatever you say,” he mutters under his breath as he makes the turn into the main street that will take them toward the bay. “You ever had Tapas?”

Cas hums and stares at the window, watching the world go by. Traffic is a little heavy, being prime rush hour, but most people are heading for the arteries out of the city, not deeper in. “A long time ago, with my brother.”

“Your brother?” Dean turns to stare at him with wide eyes. “You didn’t tell me you have a brother, just your dickbag parents.”

“Dean!” Cas nearly shouts when he notices Dean’s attention. “The road!”

“Shit!” Dean swerves and slams in the brakes, barely avoiding a teen on a skateboard who isn’t paying attention to her surroundings. “Damn kids.” Dean’s nose wrinkles and his voice is bitter as he creeps forward, pointing a glare at the oblivious kid for good measure.

The kid doesn’t even spare them a glance.

“So, you have a brother?” Dean asks once they’re moving again, paying closer attention this time.

Cas nods. “I have three. Michael and Raphael are like our parents. Gabriel is…well, the only one who didn’t cut me out after I got kicked out.”

“They’re all older?” Dean tilts his head and glances at him, watching the traffic out of the corner of his eye.

Cas smiles despite himself at the knowing confidence in Dean’s tone. “How’d you guess?”

Dean makes a right turn at the light before answering and when he does, it’s with a shrug. “You seem like the little brother type.”

Cas arches a brow and shakes his head. “And what might that be?”

“Oh, you know, a bit spoiled, demanding…” Dean smirks when Cas punches him in the arm. “Seriously though, you’re tough. Resilient. And stubborn. Very stubborn. Kinda remind me of Sammy in a way.”

Cas shakes his head with an amused huff. “I remind you of your brother?” He’d be willing to call bullshit on that after all the talking Dean has done about how perfect his little brother is. How smart, how determined, how kind. Dean must be crazy if he sees those things in him.

Dean nods and chews his lip. “I mean, you are way more attractive than him, but being around you just feels comfortable. Like everything is gonna be okay. The only other person I’ve ever felt that with is Sammy.”

Cas swallows hard and looks out the window to save himself from looking at Dean. He can pretend all he wants that Dean’s words don’t make his heart ache and spirit reach out for the man, but he knows he isn’t fooling himself. Not when he’s pretty sure he feels the same.

“Anyway. Enough of the chick-flick crap.” Dean clears his throat and his fingers tighten on the wheel. “Tell me about what to expect from this place.”

“The last time I had Tapas was in Chicago with Gabriel. They’re small plates that you order a bunch of so you’re getting just a few bites of a lot of different things.” Cas turns toward Dean slightly so he can watch the man’s reaction. Somehow, picturing Dean in a restaurant like that is proving difficult. He doesn’t seem the type to enjoy tiny portions.

Dean’s brow furrows as expected and he turns to Cas with a wrinkled nose. “Small plates? Is that just code for not enough food?”

Cas chuckles and shakes his head. “The intention is to order several until you’ve had enough.”

Dean’s nose wrinkles further. “I dunno about this.”

“You’re the one who wanted to try it.” Cas shrugs. He wasn’t lying when he said he’d be happy with anything. “I won’t be upset if you’ve changed your mind.”

“Hell no. I said I want to try it and I meant it,” Dean says with a little too much determination in his tone. “Besides, we’re almost there.”

Cas shakes his head with a widening smile. Dean’s little pout and the stubborn glint in his eye are far more endearing than they should be on a grown man. “Of course, Dean.”

Not long after, Dean pulls into a parking lot and begins the hunt for a space. He claims they’re still a block from the restaurant but he’s been told to find parking here. There’s more room.

Cas watches him curse and sputter with a soft smile until Baby is backed safely into a spot next to the curb so she can only be assaulted from one side.

He already knows better than to ask Dean why he keeps such a big car in the city.

By the time they’re both out of the car, Dean has already spent at least five minutes complaining about traffic and lack of parking as if he doesn’t realize that his dilemma could be partially fixed by driving something more sensible.

Cas doesn’t have a death wish though, so he bites his cheek to keep from smiling at Dean’s outraged misery and keeps walking.

“Oh, here, lemme get that,” Dean says hurriedly as he steps ahead to hold the door to the restaurant open. He gestures Cas inside with a soft smile and patiently waits for an older couple to exit before following.

Watching Dean hurry hold the door with such a soft smile makes Cas sigh happily. The little crinkles next to Dean’s eyes and the way he says, _you’re welcome, ma’am_ , when the woman thanks him sets Cas’s heart to fluttering as warmth fills his cheeks.

Dean thinks nothing of his kindness and automatic willingness to help, something that Cas can’t help but find endlessly attractive.

“Uh, reservation for Winchester?” Dean says as he approaches the smiling young man at the host stand and Cas can’t help the way his brows threaten to climb into his hairline.

His stomach drops and squeezes, before flipping and starting all over again as a slow smile forces the corners of his lips up.

Dean made a reservation for them.

His smile grows and warmth fills his chest as he steps closer to Dean and reaches for the man’s hand.

He freezes and his eyes blow wide when his fingers brush against Dean’s and he suddenly remembers himself. Dean gives him a puzzled glance but Cas looks away with a shy flush to his cheeks. He can’t bring himself to meet Dean’s gaze when he so carelessly sought out contact that is in no way appropriate.

No matter how many times he needs to remind himself, his heart will eventually catch up to his brain.

“Right this way, gentlemen,” the host says with a patented customer service grin and gestures for them to follow.

This is not a date. Cas sucks in a deep breath and closes his eyes to center himself before falling in behind Dean. The funny little twist his heart does at the thought seems to be calling him a liar but he shakes his head and refuses to give in.

The host leads them to a table in the corner near the bank of windows overlooking the boardwalk and Dean gestures for Cas to choose his seat first. Small candles flicker on the table and Cas stares into the dancing light as tight bands wrap around his chest, squeezing until he can scarcely breathe.

“Sir?” The host questions after a handful of thundering heartbeats and Cas turns to the man with saucer-like eyes. “Is this table alright? Perhaps you would prefer a booth?”

Cas shakes off his stupor and swallows hard. “N…no, this is fine. Thank you.” He forces a watery smile and wipes his clammy hands on his thighs as he scans the rest of the dining room.

He hadn’t been paying attention.

Every single table is lit with candles. Not just theirs.

“Very good. Your server will be right with you,” the host says with the same plastered on smile as he sets menus down.

“This place is… interesting,” Dean comments as he carefully slips into a chair while eyeing Cas nervously.

Cas head whips toward Dean and only then does he realize he’s still standing next to the table like a fool. His cheeks flush and he clears his throat as he quickly pulls a chair out and plops down. “It looks expensive.”

The words are out of his mouth before Cas can stop them and Dean’s little frown makes it clear that they weren’t quite the right thing to say.

“Cas, I told you, I don’t care about that.” Dean reaches across the table and covers Cas’s hand with his.

Right. Dean wanted to come to this place that is the near exact opposite of his element. “Sorry.” Cas tries to shrug. Dean had said he was starting over. Maybe part of that is becoming someone who enjoys Tapas.

He has no reason for the jitters skittering over his skin and making his heart do funny things in his chest every time he catches Dean’s tender smile directed at him. _Fuck._ He buries his face in his hands and tries to will away the weaknesses in his carefully constructed defenses.

He needs to keep himself under control.

“It’s just been a long time since I’ve been somewhere like this,” Cas excuses when he finally looks up to meet Dean’s slightly narrowed eyes and furrowed brow.

The tension held in Dean’s slight frown melts away and he nods. “Since before you left home?”

Cas shakes his head and sucks in a much-needed breath. “Gabriel took me out to dinner when I turned 18. He had ferreted what money he could to me during those years, but he was in college himself, living off our parent’s trust. He got me enough to get by and finish high school.”

He carefully doesn’t mention the couch surfing he had to do in the seedier side of his childhood small town. His coming out stirred the pot of bigotry amongst the upper echelons in the town and their church quietly celebrated when he was thrown out. Enrolling in public school as a minor proved to be a challenge, his private school certainly hadn’t wanted him after his parents stopped paying the bill, but he found a way.

He hadn’t known what else to do.

School was all he knew, all he could think about.

He silently huffs to himself and shakes his head. He was so naïve.

Dean leans forward, the menu still laying ignored in front of him but oblivious to the memory reel playing inside of Castiel’s head. “Where is Gabriel now?”

The question is innocent enough but Cas’s stomach still twists as he’s drawn back to his brother for the fourth time today. “I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “I, uh, cut contact with everyone when I moved out here. He probably thinks I’m dead.” Cas pulls in a shaky breath and bites his lip. Disappearing has seemed like such a good idea, his only option, but looking back, he sees his foolishness.

Gabriel would have helped him, he’s sure of it.

He was 21 and dumb, Gabe would have laughed at his mistakes and moved on. It just hadn’t seemed like that at the time and now it’s too late.

Dean rears back and he shakes his head with parted lips and a wrinkled brow. “Why?” He leans forward again, horrified concern still etched in his features. “Why would you just disappear from someone who cared about you?”

Cas closes his eyes and drops his chin. He can’t stand the way Dean is looking at him like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Gabriel is better off without me.” Especially now.

Dean shakes his head and Cas’s stomach sours further. “I refuse to believe that.”

“Dean, please,” Cas sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, willing this conversation to end. Gabriel would be nothing but ashamed of what he’s become. Worse yet, Gabriel would be hurt that Cas didn’t ask him for help when he got sick. All those weeks in the hospital, alone, because he wouldn’t tell the staff how to contact his next of kin.

He was too ashamed to call Gabriel then and he’s certainly not going to call him now.

Dean huffs through his nose. “Right. Sorry. I’m supposed to be cheering you up, not dragging up old shit.”

Cas does not like the cutting edge to Dean’s tone, not one bit, but he needs the subject to change before he starts to wallow defensively. He knows all too well how he can get, Meg has smacked him upside his hard head plenty of times. He swallows hard and plasters on a weak smile. “It’s a story for another time.”

Dean gives a jerky nod and reaches for his menu without a word.

“I promise,” Cas says as he reaches out to grasp Dean’s wrist lightly and draw the man’s attention.

Dean looks at him over the menu and rotates his wrist until he can grasp Cas’s fingers lightly. “Yeah?” One side of his mouth curls up and his eyes shine with guarded hope.

Cas nods and squeezes Dean’s hand before letting go. “Soon.”

The word is barely out of his mouth before he realizes that he means it. He wants to tell Dean about his fall from grace, how he went from preppy rich kid to barely hanging on by a thread.

“Hello, my name is Teddy and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Can I interest you gentleman in our wine list?” a deep voice startles Cas out of his musings. “We have an excellent local Cabernet at the moment, 2016 vintage.”

“Uh,” Dean starts and shakes his head.

“No, thank you, we won’t be having alcohol tonight.” Cas waves away the menu before Dean can pull himself from his stupor and Cas casts a concerned glance across the table.

Teddy nods without missing a beat and tucks the wine list back under his arm. “In that case, we have Pepsi products as well as several locally made soft drinks and a wide array of mocktails if that would please you.” His grin is wide and earnest enough to almost tempt Cas into looking at the mocktails but he shakes his head.

“Just water for me, please,” Cas says, swallowing hard before looking to Dean.

“I, uh, do you have anything fruity with tiny umbrellas?” Dean asks, a playful smirk on his face.

Teddy nods again, his smile growing. “We have a virgin peach Bellini and a lovely concoction that our head bartender created just for us, called a Golden Gate Pass.”

Cas’s head tilts of his own volition and he narrows his eyes. “What’s in it?”

“Grapefruit juice, blood orange juice, and white sparkling grape juice along with an herb and citrus-infused simple syrup to balance for sweetness,” Teddy explains excitedly while Dean looks on with growing horror.

“I think I’ll stick with the virgin Bellini,” Dean says before turning to Cas. “Cas?”

Cas shrugs. “That Golden Gate Pass sounds pretty good, but I’m happy with…”

“And one of those Pass things for my friend,” Dean says smoothly, cutting Cas off mid-sentence.

“Dean!” Cas hisses from across the table when Teddy turns on his heel and heads toward the bar. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Dean shrugs with a smug little smile. “I wanted to.” He picks up his menu again as if he isn’t flustering Cas at every turn tonight. “What sounds good to you?”

Cas licks his lips and eyes the menu, scanning the extensive list. “Uh, it all sounds good.” Cas swallows hard around his words, eyeing each item with interest. He doesn’t want to tell Dean what to order, doesn’t want to spend too much money, but he isn’t lying when he says everything sounds good.

Teddy comes back with their drinks and Cas nearly swoons when the bubbly citrus concoction hits his tongue. “Have you decided what you’d like to eat?”

Dean scans the menu, one last time. “Can we, uh, how many would you recommend?”

“Three to four per person if you have big appetites, two to three otherwise.” Teddy leans closer to Cas and reaches a hand toward the menu in front of him. “May I?”

Cas nods his permission and sits back, listening intently as Teddy points to certain items and makes recommendations. By the time he’s worked through the menu, Dean has ordered seven plates and grins at Cas over the rim of his virgin Bellini.

Dean’s thick fingers toy with the tiny paper umbrella, a bright blue one that contrasts beautifully against the pale peach of his drink. “I always loved these things when I was a kid.”

Cas pinches back his smile. “The drink or the garnish?”

“The umbrella, man!” Dean grins as he spins the tiny thing between his fingers.

Cas chuckles at Dean’s wide smile, the light in his eyes and easy grin makes him look younger, less haggard and Cas wishes he could keep that look on Dean’s face for the rest of their lives. He plucks his umbrella, a green one, from his drink and makes a show of twirling it between his thumb and forefinger, spinning it back and forth easily. He can’t help the way the tiny bit of silliness makes him smile and the mood between them lightens considerably.

They chat easily through their meal, sharing plates and passing each other bites with amused laughter and bright smiles. Dean jokes about his abhorrent table manners, and Cas can’t help but agree when Dean looks up at him with noodles hanging out of his mouth and down his chin.

“You’re disgusting,” Cas jokes, swatting Dean’s hand playfully as he reaches for a crostini before he’s finished chewing his shrimp.

Dean grins around the food in his mouth and sticks out his tongue. “You love it.”

Cas wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Oh, come on,” Dean mumbles around his food and chucks his napkin across the table, drawing full-bodied laughter from Castiel.

Cas shakes his head harder despite his wide grin and shaking shoulders. “Still disgusting.”

“Shuddup,” Dean says but his grin doesn’t fade.

By the time their plates are cleared away and the bill that Dean wouldn’t let him see has been paid, Cas leans back in his chair with a groan and pats his stomach. “Thank you, Dean. That was the nicest meal I’ve had in a long time.” Years. It’s been years since he ate this well. Probably not since he lived in the college dorms and had access to the all you can eat dining halls.

Even then, the food wasn’t this fancy or this delicious.

“So, uh, wanna get some ice cream?” Dean asks sheepishly before biting his lip. “I heard there was a place by the pier, a good place to take a walk.”

Cas can’t help his answering smile even if he shakes his head. “You still have room for more?”

Dean scoffs and shakes his head. “There is always room for ice cream.”

“I thought there was always room for pie?” Cas arches a curious brow and chuckles at the way Dean’s eyes light up with the mere mention of pie.

“Well, yeah,” Dean says with a shrug. “But ice cream melts and fills in all the gaps. So there’s always room.”

Cas arches a skeptical brow and doesn’t move from his chair even when Dean scoots back and checks his watch.

“Besides, I got two more hours to get you home before you turn into a pumpkin.” Dean grins, pleased with himself for his utterly confusing joke.

Cas squints and tilts his chin which makes Dean snort with laughter.

“Come on, man. Cinderella? Get it?” Dean waves his hands and rolls his eyes.

Still, Cas stares. “She did not turn into a pumpkin, Dean. Her carriage did. Do you want to imagine Baby turning into a pumpkin?”

Dean’s jaw drops. “Shuddup,” he gripes as he stands up. “No one’s turnin Baby into a stupid pumpkin.”

A smile breaks across Cas’s lips and he leans forward with a deep laugh before looking up at Dean with a wide grin that crinkles his nose.

“Oh yeah, real funny, chuckles,” Dean claps Cas on the shoulder. “Come on, I want ice cream.”

Cas shakes his head fondly as he pushes to his feet and bumps Dean’s shoulder as he passes him to leave. Tonight has been wonderful and if Dean wants ice cream, he isn’t going to say no.

Even if the idea of eating more on top of everything is absurd.

He pushes through the door before Dean has a chance to get in front of him, and he gestures the other man through as he holds it. “So, which way is this ice cream place?”

“That way.” Dean gestures. “I think.” He stands close enough that their hands brush as they walk and Cas’s stomach flutters with each gentle touch.

It would take nothing to turn his hand and take Dean’s, and Lord help him, he wants to. He slides his eyes closed and takes a half step away. “What’s your favorite flavor?” He forces himself to ask, keeping his tone light to cover the squirming in his gut.

“Anything pie flavored,” Dean says and a not-so-surprised bark of indignant laughter escapes from Castiel.

Cas rolls his eyes and shakes his head, bumping his shoulder against Dean’s playfully. “How am I not surprised.”

“What about you? Favorite flavor?” Dean bumps back, making Cas stumble just a little.

“I’ve always been fond of vanilla.” Cas shrugs.

“Vanilla? Seriously? Of all the lame flavors…” Dean protests, his nose scrunched as he frowns comically.

“It’s a classic.” Cas bites his lip to keep from laughing. He misses this lighthearted teasing, he remembers playing like this with his brothers when they were kids and with Meg before their lives took a turn for the worst.

Dean scoffs. “You’re a classic.”

Cas sputters through his burst of laughter. “What does that even mean?”

“It means you’re ordering first,” Dean says as he gestures to the takeaway window of the ice cream booth, complete with a gum chewing, bubble blowing high school girl with dark pigtails and too much make-up. 

“Hi,” the girl greets, snapping her gum as Cas peruses the menu.

He bites his lip and grins when he sees a perfect choice. “I’ll have a single scoop,” Cas says as he steals a glance at Dean. “Of Pumpkin, please.” He turns back to the girl with a wide grin and she rolls her eyes.

“Really, Cas? Really?” Dean gripes but the smile on his face only grows.

“Cup or cone?” She says, pushing herself up from where she’s been leaning halfway across the counter.

“Waffle cone?” Cas looks to Dean for confirmation and the man nods despite his dramatic eyeroll.

Dean snorts and shakes his head. “As if there’s any other option. I’d like three scoops of butter pecan, please.”

“Waffle cone too?” The girl’s tone has grown tired and she pops her gum again as if scooping two cones is the worst hardship of her young life.

Cas wishes he could relate.

“Pumpkin, seriously?” Dean turns and gripes as soon as the dramatic high schooler turns away.

Cas laughs, full-bodied and bright at Dean’s scowl. His shoulders hunch and shake when Dean sticks his tongue out and shoves his shoulder.

“Ass,” Dean hisses under his breath as he gives in and joins Castiel’s laughter.

“That’ll be ten fifty,” the girl says flatly as she holds out their cones.

Cas takes them, staring wide-eyed at Dean’s monstrous dessert while the other man fishes for his wallet and pays. “How are you going to eat all this?” Cas questions with horror laced in his tone as he hands the towering waffle cone over. There has to be a least a pound of ice cream on there, probably more.

He wouldn’t be able to eat that much as a meal, let alone after all the food they just had at the restaurant.

Dean’s grin reminds Cas of a little boy and the way his eyes light up with excitement makes it impossible for Cas to complain. “Gimme,” Dean says with grabby hands once his wallet is tucked away.

Cas hands over the cone with raised brows and immediately reaches for extra napkins. “You’re insufferable,” he says while fondly shaking his head and taking a kitten lick of his pumpkiny goodness.

He nearly chokes and his cheeks flush hot when he hears the filthy moan come from Dean and he looks over in time to see the man’s pink tongue licking a long strip up the already dripping white ice cream. Dean’s eyes are closed and Cas is grateful that he can’t see the way he has to adjust his pants at the sight and sound of Dean’s lewd behavior.

Fuck.

Cas takes a shuddering breath and turns away, focusing on his pale orange dessert before he can embarrass himself by being caught. Stretching ahead of them is a long pier that reaches out over the water. With the low sun, several fishermen are out with their lines cast as far as they can reach. The waning daylight brings with it a sense of peace and the surrounding calm only adds to that effect. “Walk with me?” Cas questions, holding out his hand in the direction of the boardwalk, away from the fishermen.

Dean nods without a word, his lips parting over the top of his cone and lowering as far as he can before sliding back up, taking as much of the half-melted dessert as he can.

Cas’s gaze fixates on the single drip of white clinging to Dean’s chin and his breath hitches as he holds out a napkin with a scowl. “You’re disgusting,” he forces himself to say over the suggestive hammering of his heart.

Dean grins. “And yet you still like me.” He takes the napkin and dabs at his chin with a cheeky wink.

Cas shakes his head and lets out an exaggerated huff. “Why, I can’t seem to figure out.”

Dean bumps their shoulders playfully, something he seems to be doing a lot, Cas has noticed, and reaches around him to throw away the ruined napkin. “Good thing you got extras,” he says, standing just a little too close as he licks another stripe up his cone. “My brother used to accuse me of being an overgrown toddler.”

“I can see why,” Cas snorts and takes another taste of his.

“How is it?” Dean asks, gesturing toward Cas’s ice cream.

Cas nods as he swallows his bite. “It’s good. Tastes like pumpkin pie.” He licks again, noticing how Dean’s gaze tracks the movement and go wide when Cas smirks. Two can play at this game. “Would you like to try some?” Cas asks innocently as he holds out his cone for Dean’s perusal.

“You sure?” Dean asks, cheeks flushing.

Cas grins. “If I can have a taste of yours?”

Dean nods and leans forward as he holds out his cone to Cas. They each slowly taste the other’s, eyes locked and smiles wide. Until Cas lets out a filthy moan and he closes his eyes as he pulls back.

“Delicious,” Cas says, dropping his voice low just too see how red he can make Dean flush. He shakes his head internally at himself, berating this game of chicken he’s started playing. He has no business teasing Dean, but the way his green eyes shine and his freckles stand out against his pink cheeks is too tempting to resist. For the first time in years, he wants to find out what delectable noises he can draw from someone. He wants to be touched with the reverence that Dean’s eyes are promising him.

Dean’s choked off whimper draws him back to reality and Cas drops his gaze.

“Sorry. That was too much.” Cas shakes his head and takes a step back. “I apologize.”

Dean swallows hard and Cas absolutely does not track the way his tongue darts out to lick the lingering sweetness from his lips. “You’re right,” he says. “That does taste like pumpkin pie.” His gaze doesn’t waver, not even when Cas stares back with wide eyes, waiting for Dean to say something more.

Dean rubs the back of his neck and looks down the boardwalk before he clears his throat awkwardly. “Still wanna go for that walk?”

Cas nods, glad for the subject change, and gestures for Dean to lead the way.

They walk in silence for a few minutes, simply soaking up each other’s presence while they eat. The boardwalk makes each step seem louder than it is but the lapping waves along the sea wall and slightly salty tang to the air create a space where the extra noise fits perfectly.

“I used to come down here almost every weekend,” Cas says softly as he turns to lean against a railing.

Dean joins him, only inches away as he wipes his hands with the last of the napkins. “Why’d you stop?”

Cas sighs and closes his eyes as he grips the railing. “Life got too hard, being out here, watching people, just reminded me of what I used to have, of what I lost.”

Dean nods. “Of Gabriel?”

Cas huffs and shakes his head. “Sometimes.”

Guilt swirls in his gut. He hasn’t thought this much about his brother in years, he hasn’t dared to, and now that Dean has put the idea into his head, he can’t help but wonder where Gabe is and what he’s doing. If he ever thinks about him, wonders what happened.

“I was in school in Chicago. Got a full ride because I was a homeless student,” Cas says, mouth going dry. Meg is the only one who knows his story, that’s where he met her. “Everything was great. I was living in the dorms, majoring in social sciences. I wanted to go on to become a social worker for queer kids. I wanted to protect them from what I went through.” He stops to take a deep breath and shakes his head.

“What happened?” Dean asks so quietly that Cas isn’t certain he spoke at all until he takes a half step closer, causing their shoulders to brush.

Cas stares straight out at the water and chews his lip. “I screwed up. Fell in with the wrong crowd. Crowley, he was a local dealer who threw the best parties. That’s where I met Meg.” Cas turns to Dean with a wry smile.

“She was a junkie then, heroin. Anyway, one thing led to another and I ended up using,” Cas trails off ducks his gaze.

“Cas…” Dean leans closer and puts a hand on Cas’s shoulder.

“I only did heroin once, but that was all it took. I got meningitis from the dirty needle and landed in the hospital. When I admitted to using drugs, the university canceled my scholarships and kicked me out.” Cas sucks in a deep breath and lets himself lean into the warmth of Dean’s side and he swallows down his nausea. “The hospital stay and forced rehab that I didn’t need left me up to my eyeballs in debt by the time I got out. I had nowhere to go and I was too ashamed to call Gabe.”

“That’s horrible,” Dean mutters and lets his arm wrap around Cas’s waist, holding him in a type of half-hug that Cas fights not to turn his body into.

Cas nods his agreement. He shed all his tears for himself long ago, but that doesn’t stop dry prickling from growing behind his eyes. “That’s when Meg found me. She wanted to get clean and suggested we run away together like Romeo and Juliet. I didn’t have the heart to tell her they both died in the end.”

“Cas…” Dean turns to him, eyes wide with concern.

Cas shakes his head and sniffles, surprising himself when he feels a single tear forming in the corner of his eye. “I’m fine. She’s the one who’s dying.”

“From the needles?” Dean asks, resting his free hand on Cas’s hip so that he’s ready to draw him closer.

Cas shakes his head again and huffs a bitter laugh. “Cancer. She went through hell to get clean and it was all for nothing. She’s going to die anyway.”

He can feel Dean’s pity seeping through the warmth of his loose embrace and he hates it. Tears threaten to clog his throat when he thinks about how little time his best friend has left. He hasn’t allowed himself to cry since the doctor at the clinic told them the news.

Meg’s fingernails left bloody marks on his hands as they reviewed her ultrasound and test results, showing cancerous tumors in her stomach and the surrounding tissues. She broke down and sobbed in his arms when the doctor told her that even if they could afford treatment, it was too late. The cancer had spread.

His shoulders start to shake and Dean pulls him closer. “What can I do to help?” Dean whispers as Cas loops his arms around the small of his back and holds on tight.

Cas sucks in a breath through his nose. “Can you be there for me? When she goes? She’s all I have and I’m not sure how I’m going to…”

Dean shakes his head and bundles Cas’s hands in his when they pull apart. “She isn’t all you have. I’ll be here, however and whenever you need me.”

Cas nods and sucks in a deep breath through his nose before turning back toward the water. “Sorry to ruin the mood,” he mutters, already regretting his weakness. He wanted to tell Dean his story but he hadn’t meant to get so dramatic and he certainly hadn’t meant to cry on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean pulls him into his side. “You didn’t. I don’t mind.”

“I should be getting home.” Cas pretends that Dean’s tenderly spoken words don’t dig deep into his heart and make a home there.

Dean nods. “Yeah. Sure.” He offers Cas his hand but Cas merely shakes his head and puts space between them. Dean shoves his hands into his pockets, ignoring the lingering stickiness and gives a jerky nod.

The walk back to the car and the short drive to Cas’s apartment is mostly spent with heavy silence hanging between them. It isn’t until Dean pulls up to the curb and kills the engine that Cas finds the courage to say anything at all.

“Thank you for tonight, Dean. I had a good time.” Cas swallows hard and forces himself to meet Dean’s gaze through the darkness of the car.

“Me too,” Dean says as he leans forward and reaches for Cas’s hand. “I’d like to do this again sometime. Maybe catch a movie?”

Cas nods, tension building in his stomach when he notices Dean’s gaze flit to his lips as he leans closer. “Yeah, sure.” He sits frozen, waiting, as swarming butterflies threaten to overtake his stomach. He should go. He can’t let Dean…

It’s too late. Dean’s lips are warm against his and Cas can’t help but kiss back, his lips saying everything his heart wants his voice to say. Dean moans and scoots closer to cradle Cas’s jaw in his calloused palm as the kiss deepens.

His heart clenches and twists when Dean’s tongue sweeps gently over his bottom lip and he opens for him, relishing the lingering taste of cream and sugar and something else that has pressure building low in his gut. Dean is perfect, beautiful, and perfect and he can’t do this. He _can’t._

Cas pulls back with a wide-eyed gasp and swallows hard as he shakes his head hard even as his eyes start to burn. “I can’t,” he breathes, panic edging in his voice. “I can’t do this.” He reaches behind him blindly and pushes the door open, nearly falling out of the car in his haste to get away.

“Cas!” Dean calls, reaching out for him.

“Don’t.” Cas shakes his head as he slams the door shut and flees into his building.

“Cas! Please!” Dean calls after him but he’s too slow getting out of the car.

Cas isn’t listening as he slams through the outside door of his building. He’s certain he’s never taken the stairs faster, the fear of Dean following him manifests as a relentless pounding in his chest that spurs him onward until he’s safely hidden behind his locked door and a glance out the window a few minutes later reveals that Dean is gone.

The thought that Dean just left, that he didn’t even try to come after him, cuts through his heart like a lance even though that is exactly what he wanted. What he needed.

Except, that’s a lie and he knows it.

Fuck.

His face scrunches and a single tear tracks down his cheek before he wipes it away roughly, scratching his eye in the process.

Apparently, he can’t do anything right.

He slides down the wall and buries his head in his knees as the tears start to come, thankful for once that Meg isn’t home to see him fall apart.

He isn’t allowed to have what he wants. He learned that lesson a long time ago, or he thought he had, at least. Now, he realizes he’s the same idiot he’s always been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't be too mad at Cas... he knows he's being stupid but with his mental state, he's doing the best he can.
> 
> Much love to all of you and thank you for reading


	7. The Day for a Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even though he's stewing in misery over how his date, not date, with Cas ended, Dean takes another forward step in his recovery.

Dean shifts against the well-worn leather of his seat and wrings his hands. Baby purrs around him, enveloping him with familiar comfort but doing little to soothe his racing heart. “I think I’m gonna be sick,” he mutters as he drops his forehead against the steering wheel.

He was supposed to be inside ten minutes ago.

Sam is probably waiting.

He is so chicken shit, sitting here like the worthless coward he is and avoiding his brother.

“Shit!” he half shouts and twists in his heat with a suddenly racing heart when the passenger door opens and someone he hasn’t seen in far too long drops into the seat.

“Dean,” Sam says, golden hazel eyes boring into Dean with a look that could melt even the most frozen heart.

“Sammy,” Dean gasps, wide eyes scanning his brother from his still shaggy hair to his well-fitting jeans. “You got big.” He swallows hard, eyeing his sasquatch of a brother with fearful wonder in his tone.

“Dean.” Sam’s eyes widen and soften at the same time, his voice pitching high enough to sound like he had when he was fourteen and begging Dean to stay home with him instead of hustling pool.

Dean leans forward the same time as Sam and they meet in an awkward back-clapping hug that Sam clings to.

Not Dean though. No. Not even a little. The extra few seconds he holds on is purely for Sam’s benefit.

He’s the older brother here and still has a reputation to uphold.

“You’ve been sitting out here for so long, I was afraid you were gonna leave,” Sam mutters against Dean’s shoulder and he holds him tighter and Dean loses the battle with the moisture pooling in the corner of his eye.

There must be dust in the air. Or air pollution.

Damn big cities.

He doesn’t have the words to respond to Sam’s well-founded fear. He might have left if Sam hadn’t taken it upon himself to crash his pity party. “I’m sorry.” He can’t help that he chokes a little on his words. They’ve been a long time coming and Sam deserves to hear them.

“It’s okay,” Sam says, pulling back with a nod. “Come inside?” He points toward the restaurant with his thumb. “You can tell me how that date went.”

Dean swallows hard around the sudden lump in his throat. It wasn’t supposed to be a date and instead of talking to Cas like a grown-ass adult, he had to go and ruin everything.

Cas was having a bad day and Dean had only wanted to help. Somehow, his heart didn’t get the memo and he sent Cas literally running away. Dean’s lost track of how many times he’s tried to call and text without even shred of success.

Cas shut him out, again, and its entirely Dean’s fault.

Dean huffs a bitter laugh and shakes his head. “Yeah, don’t really wanna talk about that.”

Sam arches a brow. “That good?”

Dean shakes his head and cracks a smile at the still familiar and knowing smirk on Sam’s face. He’s glad to know some things haven’t changed. “That good.”

“Well, come inside and we’ll commiserate. It’s good to see you, man.” Sam claps him in the shoulder and reaches over to turn off the ignition.

It’s a testament to how much Dean has missed his brother when Sam doesn’t draw back a stump for touching his Baby. “It’s good to see you too, man.” He nods and pushes open the door to climb out.

Sam quickly follows, folding his arms over Baby’s roof and staring at Dean with stars in his eyes. “She looks real good, Dean.” He pats the roof approvingly with a wide grin and Dean can’t help but agree.

“I think she’s the one thing I haven’t fucked up.” He knows that much is true. Even in all his stupidity, he’s treated this car like she’s made of gold since their dad signed her over to when he turned eighteen.

The one good thing John Winchester ever did for him.

“You haven’t fucked us up, Dean,” Sam says and Dean’s throat tightens painfully as he stares into his brother’s eyes. “We lost some time, sure. But you’re my brother, I’m not letting you go again.”

Dean closes his eyes and leans on the roof, needing the extra support when his knees go weak. Everything he’s wanted for years is right in front of him, within reach. He blinks back the tears forming in his eyes and sniffles away the stuffiness in his nose as he flashes Sam a smile. “Not lettin you go either, bitch.” Even he can’t deny the emotion clogging his throat.

Sam barks a bright laugh, full of teeth and gleaming eyes. “Jerk.”

Dean grins. Just like that, they’re back. He’s sure they’re going to need to talk, Sam will insist on it, but they’re together and that’s what matters. “Let’s go inside.”

Sam nods, looking just the same as Dean remembers and yet somehow different. He isn’t a gangly teen anymore although he still has a little baby fat in his cheeks and a lightness in his step that can only belong to the young. When he turns to head inside, Dean realizes just how tall Sam has gotten and his eyes go wide.

The kid was almost as tall as Dean when he left, but now he feels short when he falls into step beside Sam. “Damn, Sasquatch,” Dean comments when Sam reaches for the door of the pizza joint and he blushes like the kid he used to be at the comment.

“I grew,” Sam states the obvious as he holds the door for Dean.

Dean arches his brows. “Ya think? How tall are you now? Six-two, six-three?”

“Six-four,” Sam says, cheeks reddening as his hair hangs in his face.

“And still in need of a haircut,” Dean jokes, reaching up to flick Sam’s bangs.

Sam chuckles and shakes his head as he grabs Dean’s wrist to push him away. “I like the hair.”

They settle at the table Sam had already claimed and Dean picks up a menu awkwardly and stares at the glass of ice water in front of him like it might turn into something better if he tries hard enough.

“I, uh, already ordered a meat lovers for you. That okay?” Sam hedges, folding his elbows on the table and staring at Dean as if he might disappear if he looks away.

Dean glances up, away from the water, and flashes a smile at his brother as he sets the menu at the edge of the table. “Perfect.”

“So, Bobby says you’re doing good?” Sam hedges, his tone asking far more than his words might suggest. Curiosity gleams in his eyes the same as it always has and Dean can’t help but smile at the familiarity.

He nods, sucking in a breath in a search for words as he picks at his fingers. His heart flutters and stomach twists with the remnants of fear that he tries to shove down. Sam is here. Right in front of him for the first time in years. “Yeah, he’s been working me pretty hard,” Dean says with a shrug. “But that’s good! Keeps my mind off things.” He takes a sip from the glass in front of him to shut himself up. “What about you? How’s college?”

Sam nods and his broad smile turns almost shy. “I start law school in the fall,” Sam offers. “My girlfriend, Jess, is starting med school. We got a place together just off campus.”

Dean grins. Bobby had told him all this already but hearing the pride and excitement in Sam’s voice is so much better. “That’s awesome.”

Sam nods, seeming to sense Dean’s hesitance to ask too many questions because he plows right on. “Yeah, I scored really well on the LSATS, 174. I feel like I did nothing but study for years.”

Dean smirks. He has no idea what 174 is supposed to mean but Sam seems happy with it so he will be too. “That’s great Sammy, you always were the smart one.”

Sam’s brow twitches and Dean can’t be sure whether it’s the use of his long-maligned childhood name or his comment about smarts. Either one seems like a likely candidate considering the last handful of arguments they had before Sam left. “You’re not dumb, Dean. You’re one of the smartest guys I know.”

Dean scoffs and shakes his head. “Not sure what you think about being damn near thirty with nothin to show but a GED and a damaged liver makes me smart.”

Sam pinches his lips and shakes his head. “Not all smarts come from books, Dean. You have more common sense than anyone I know, and dude, common sense really isn’t that common.”

Dean scoffs and shakes his head, about to open his mouth to object when Sam continues.

“Okay, so get this. Remember that time when Dad dumped us in that rat-infested hotel and then disappeared for three weeks?” Sam leans forward excitedly with his elbows braced on the table.

Dean raises his brows and shakes his head. “Gonna have to be more specific.” They were dumped and left behind more than once before their dad dragged them back to Kansas to be closer to Mary’s grave. That was when their dad really went off the deep end with his drinking and Dean followed not long after.

“That one in New Mexico. With the pool? Anyway, you remember what happened?” Sam’s eyes gleam with the promise of making his point and proving Dean wrong.

Dean sucks in a breath through his nose, remembering that place all too well. “Yeah, I remember. I was barely able to keep us from getting kicked out.”

“Yeah, by fixing all the AC units and the pool pump. You were what? 15? That kind of mechanical ability doesn’t come naturally to most people, Dean.” Sam settles back in his chair looking smug and Dean shakes his head.

He remembers those two weeks when they ran out of money quite differently. Yeah, sure. He fixed some things but that wasn’t all. He swallows hard and shakes his head. “Yeah. Sure. You got me.” He is not about to tell Sam what else he had to do to keep a roof over their heads.

Sam can never know the whole story.

Never.

“And how well you can read people? I remember going with you to the bar and watching you hustle pool. Those guys never stood a chance.” Sam tosses his hands around excitedly as he grins.

“Sam, you hated those bars.” Dean rolls his eyes. “You hated that I was fleecing those people.”

Sam nods and presses his lips into a firm line. “Yeah, I did. But I didn’t appreciate what you were doing back then, I didn’t get it. You did what you had to do to survive. To take care of _me._ ” He sucks in a deep breath. “You’re the best big brother, the best I could have asked for. Hell, you were more of a dad to me than Dad was.”

“Sammy.” Dean swallows hard and shakes his head, feeling his throat tighten as he drops his gaze to the chipped tabletop. He uses his fingernail to pick at the surface, needing somewhere for his nervous energy to go as his heart threatens to shatter for the kids they never got to be.

“No, Dean. Please let me say this.” Sam frowns at him from across the table, his hazel eyes going glassy as he stares. “You were always there for me, always made sure we ate, had clothes, somewhere to live. You made sure I got to school every day, even after you stopped going. You did _everything_ for me,” his voice falters and he scrubs at his eyes. “I’m so sorry I left, Dean. I was too afraid to call, too afraid of disappointing you.” He sniffles and Dean finally looks up to meet Sam’s watering eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

Dean’s brows scrunch and he shakes his head. “You ain’t got nothin to be sorry for. I’m glad you got out, glad you’re makin something of yourself. I’d never be able to forgive myself if you had gotten trapped in that life.”

“Still, after everything you did for me, I abandoned you,” Sam protests, wiping at his eyes.

Dean sucks in a deep breath and shakes his head. “I didn’t give you much choice, Sam. All I ever wanted was for you to be okay, and you are. As far as I’m concerned, I’m the one who doesn’t deserve this.” He gestures around them. “I’ll only drag you down.”

Sam shakes his head vehemently. “No. That isn’t true.”

“We have one meat lovers and one veggie,” their server interrupts and both men straighten in their chairs, suddenly aware they’re in public and anyone could hear them.

“Thank you.” Dean flinches a smile.

“I know moving out here hasn’t been easy for you,” Sam says, ignoring the steaming pizza in front of him, “and I want to be here for you. Please, Dean. Don’t push me away.”

Dean doesn’t even have the heart to tease him about the overload of vegetables. Is that green crap kale? Eww. He lets out a sigh and chews his lip as he nods. “I don’t think I could push you away even if I wanted to. I’ve missed you, man, I’ll do whatever it takes to get you back in my life.”

Sam grins. Some things never change and Dean’s allergy to talking about feeling is as strong as ever and his cheeks heat as Sam’s grin softens. The brat knows exactly how difficult that admission was and he’s going to gloat about it, Dean just knows it. “You got me, Dean. I’m not leaving you again.”

The corners of Dean’s mouth curl slightly as something unnamable unclenches in his chest and he nods.

“Now, you gonna tell me about that date the other night? Does she want to go out with you again?” Sam grins as he picks up his knife and fork.

Dean closes his eyes and pulls in a sharp breath, cursing the fact that he had let Sam think that some _girl_ talked him into calling him back. “About that, Sammy, there’s something I gotta tell ya.” He swallows hard, preparing himself for the worst. “It wasn’t supposed to be a date, I just wanted to say thank you for the support.” He’s doing it again, being vague and avoiding Cas’s gender.

Fuck.

Has he mentioned that he’s chicken-shit lately?

Sam tilts his head slightly and nods for him to continue as Dean steels himself with a deep breath. “My date, uh, Cas is a guy. Castiel.” He clenches his jaw and waits for the surprise to cycle through Sam’s expression. “I’m bi.” As if that wasn’t already clear enough.

Finally, Sam pinches a frown and nods. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Dean questions, not quite trusting Sam’s upbeat tone.

“Yeah. I thought you might be, but you never said anything so I didn’t want to bring it up first.” Sam shrugs.

Bobby wasn’t wrong.

“Wait,” Dean says, tilting his head and leaning forward. “You and Bobby both suspected and neither of you ever said anything? What the hell?!”

Sam leans forward, careful to keep his tone down. “Well, it isn’t like you ever gave us much of a chance.” He fixes Dean with the same arched browed stare that he perfected in his teen years and Dean shakes his head in mock annoyance. “So anyway, what happened with Cas?”

Dean huffs with a frown. “The restaurant was great, so was the ice cream, so thanks for the recommendations.” He buries his head in his hands with a groan.

Sam’s brows climb upward before sinking down as his eyes narrow. “What happened?”

Dean shakes his head and lifts his gaze slightly. “I don’t wanna bother you with my shit.”

“Dean,” Sam says with a stern look etched in his young features. “I already missed four years of ‘your shit’, don’t make me miss more.”

Dean’s eyes slide closed and he shakes his head slightly. “We kissed.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Sam’s head tilts curiously and his brows scrunch as he stares.

Dean chews his lower lip and drops his gaze. “I really don’t wanna talk about it.” He doesn’t. Cas made his position clear in the beginning. He doesn’t date. Dean hadn’t even meant for their dinner to turn into a date, it just happened and then Dean had to go and kiss him.

_Fuck._

He drops his head back and scrunches eyes shut at the same time Sam pinches a frown and leans back in his chair. “Alright. But if you change your mind…”

Dean sucks in a breath through his nose and nods with his chin still tilted toward the ceiling. “I just gotta figure this out on my own.”

Sam chews his lip and swallows hard. “Sure. Right.”

Dean picks up a slice of pizza but his mouth is dry and his stomach flops at the idea of eating and he sets the slice down without taking a bite. “I just,” he starts and shakes his head, noting with bitter amusement how Sam perks up like a puppy being offered a treat, “he made it clear he doesn’t date and I still had to go and kiss him.”

Sam narrows his eyes but doesn’t say a word.

“I thought he was into it. He kissed back and pulled me closer. It was, fuck, it was the best kiss of my life and then the next thing I know, he’s shoving me back and scrambling to get away.” Dean lets out a shaky breath and drops his head into his hands.

“How long have you known him?” Sam asks, steepling his fingers.

“Huh?” Dean frowns with furrowed brows.

“How long have you two known each other?” Sam asks again, dipping his chin to look up at Dean through his lashes.

Dean sighs and leans back in his chair. “I dunno, a few weeks?”

Sam hums with a nod. “And you said he seemed interested?”

“I’m not some pervert, Sammy. I wouldn’t force myself on someone,” Dean protests with a frown.

“No, Dean,” Sam sighs. “That isn’t what I’m saying.”

Dean frowns, stomach squirming. “That what are you saying?”

“Maybe he’s just afraid? I don’t know. Did he tell you why he doesn’t date?” Sam’s words make Dean’s stomach squirm.

He suspects he knows why Cas doesn’t date but he can’t tell Sam that. “He says it’s better that way, safer.”

“It sounds like he’s been hurt in the past, then.” Sam leans back in his seat with a smug smile. “If you’re serious about him, then you need to show him that he can trust you. Show him that you’re not going to bail.”

If only it were that simple. “Yeah, maybe,” Dean agrees with a nod to usher in a subject change. “How did you meet Jess? Tell me about her.”

Sam beams at him, cutting a bite off his pizza and launching into the story of his life over the last four years.

Dean quickly learns about Jess, complete with photographs from Sam’s phone and a shy smile when Sam explains that he’s thinking about asking her to marry him. Dean nearly chokes on his pizza when Sam mentions how much he’s managed to save for a ring. It’s impressive considering the kid works part-time at the campus bookstore.

They eat and Dean listens to Sam gush about college for over an hour without mocking him for eating pizza with silverware. He’s proud of himself for his restraint and by the time the server comes back with the bill, he snags the piece of paper before Sam has a chance. “No, I’m the older brother here. I’m buying.” He fixes Sam with a stern look when the younger man opens his mouth to protest. “Save your money for that ring.”

Sam flushes but his soft smile is pleased as Dean hands his card over to the server to pay. “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean sucks in a deep breath through his nose and smiles wide, his heart still pattering with excitement. “Don’t gotta thank me, Sammy.”

Sam takes a breath and Dean is almost sure he’s about to launch into something that’s weighing on his mind, he has that same nearly constipated look he’d always get as a kid before asking for something that he expected Dean to say no to.

He never bothered asking John for anything, they both knew that would be a waste of breath and a good way to get slapped around.

Dean taps his fingertips on the tabletop, rotating each touch from his pinky to his thumb before starting over again while he waits for Sam to work up the courage.

He doesn’t.

The server returns, Dean signs the receipt and leaves a generous tip, and Sam still holds his silence.

Dean sighs, tilting his chin pointedly. “What’s on your mind?” He arches a brow as his stomach squirms nervously about whatever Sam might finally say.

Sam’s cheek redden and he ducks his chin. When he finally speaks, it’s so low that Dean struggles to hear him. “I was wondering if me and Jess could come for Saturday dinner at Uncle Bobby and Aunt Ellen’s? I’d like you to meet her.”

Dean’s brow furrows as he pieces Sam’s mumblings together before his eyes widen and his heart skitters a wide grin stretches his lips. “Hell yeah, I’d love to meet her.” He grins and Sam’s head jerks up to meet his gaze.

“Really?” Sam asks, sounding every bit the unsure kid that Dean remembers from so long ago.

Dean nods and watches as a slow grin widens across Sam’s features. His chests feels fit to burst from the bizarre amount of happiness and excitement he’s feeling to simply be sitting here with his brother, talking after so many years. A week ago, this was an impossible dream and now here they are.

He’s certain he might explode at any moment.

“She’s been busting my balls to call you since Bobby said you were getting sober, but I was afraid you wouldn’t want to see me. After everything I said…” Sam trails off, shaking his head and Dean takes a deep breath before huffing a bitter laugh.

“I felt the same, man. I was such a dick to you before you left. I’ve been nothing but a fuck up my entire life. I couldn’t imagine you wanting anything do with me,” Dean admits, dropping his gaze so that Sam can’t see the pain behind his eyes.

Even in his overwhelming happiness, that familiar shame still simmers just beneath the surface, waiting to boil over.

“Let’s do better from now on, how does that sound?” Sam asks, a hopeful little smile curling the corners his lips as he meets Dean’s eyes.

Dean nods. “Hell yes.”

They grin at each other from across the table, the distance of the last four years slowly evaporating the longer they stare until Dean finally can’t take any more.

“Hey, uh, you wanna come back to my apartment and keep this party going?” He asks, nervousness coiling inside him until Sam deflates with a softening smile as he nods vigorously.

“Please. I’m not quite ready to call it a night,” Sam smiles and Dean swears his heart is going stop working any minute now.

He isn’t built to contain this kind of contentment.

“Awesome.” Dean grins, feeling like he’s floating. This high surpasses anything he ever felt while living at the bottom of a bottle. This is bright and pure, healing his pain instead of forcing him to forget for a little while.

“I’ll follow you,” Sam says as he pushes from his seat and grabs his to-go box.

Dean is certain he’s never been happier. Now, if only he could figure out this thing with Cas, life would be pretty damn amazing.

\---

“Clarence, you’ve gotta work past this!” Meg shouts lazily from her place on the couch while Cas paces. His hair is more of a mess than usual, the constant ruffling and tugging over the last two days has not done him any favors. “It’s Sunday. Why don’t you just call him and talk? You like him, he likes you. Figure it out.”

Cas groans and shakes his head, pausing in his attempt to wear a path into their cheap carpet to glare. “I can’t,” he trails off and shakes his head as he rips his ringing phone out of his pocket and wrinkles his nose at the screen.

“That’s him again, isn’t it?” Meg props her chin on her hands and stares, her brown eyes baleful as her lips form a pout.

Cas quickly silences his phone and shoves the device into his pocket with a huff. “I told him that I don’t date, Meg! And he took me on a date. He kissed me!”

Meg rolls her eyes and pushes to her feet with a wince. “He asked you to dinner, you said yes. He kissed you, you kissed back. You said so yourself.” She places her hands on his shoulders and stares up into his widened blue eyes. “Let yourself have this, Castiel.”

Cas shakes his head and turns away at the sound of his full name on her lips. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Meg arches a brow, her tone demanding. “Because you’re a sex worker? Huh? Is that it? You’re convinced no one could ever want you?”

“Meg,” Cas warns, turning his head just enough to glare through slitted eyes.

“What?” Meg strides toward him, hands on her hips. “The way he looked at you in the two minutes I saw him? He’d be damn good for you and you know it!”

Cas shakes his head bitterly. “You don’t get it.”

“I don’t get it?” Meg demands, brows arches as she brings a hand to her chest dramatically. “What I don’t get it why _you_ , healthy with your entire life ahead of you, refuse to accept a good thing when it’s right in front of you!”

Cas deflates with each angrily spoken word and he drops his chin to his chest. “I can’t date and do what we do for a living, and I can’t just quit. I need to take care of you.”

Meg sighs and shakes her head. “No, you don’t.” She steps closer to Cas and cradles her cheek in her tiny hand. He leans into the touch, eyes sliding closed despite his racing heart. “I don’t have much time left, baby boy.”

“Meg,” Cas starts, eyes shooting open as terror seizes his lungs and makes him gasp for air.

“No, listen,” Meg shushes him. “You’ve done so much for me and I love you so much, but I want you to do one more thing.”

Cas feels his eyes water and he covers her hand with his on his cheek, refusing to let go. His entire body aches with the need to wrap her in his arms and never let go. He swallows hard and offers a single shaky nod. “Anything.”

She smiles softly and stares into his glassy eyes. “I want you to be happy.”

Cas breaths out, trembling as he wraps his arms around Meg’s slight frame. “I am happy.”

Meg huffs and pushes him away. “Bullshit,” she says with a sad smile. “I’m going to take a nap. Call your boyfriend.” She pats his cheek lightly and saunters away.

Once Meg’s bedroom door is closed behind her, Cas drops onto the couch and curls himself into a ball and scrolls through his phone.

Over a dozen messages from Dean and nearly as many calls that have all gone ignored.

_To Cas: I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to for that to happen. I know you said no dating_

_I screwed up. I shouldn’t have kissed you_

_Are you okay?_

_I’m having dinner with Sam tonight, I’d really like to talk to you_

_Please, talk to me_

_You promised you wouldn’t ignore me again_

_Cas…_

_At least tell me that you’re okay_

_I miss you_

_I’m sorry_

Cas lets out a shaky sigh and tosses his phone aside with a pained groan. Meg isn't wrong, but she doesn't understand. He can't _date_ Dean. There are so many reasons why he can't, it doesn't matter that they make less and less sense every time he reminds himself of them. 

His knees curl into his chest and he hugs them tightly as he stares toward the wall.

Calling Dean is the last thing he wants to do right now.

Unfortunately, even he isn't stubborn enough to believe that.

Still, his phone remains untouched long after it finally stops ringing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who do you think is going to break first?


	8. The Day for One Last Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is having a rough time coping with Castiel's rejection. Luckily for him, someone has a plan.

If he isn’t talking to Sam, Dean is working and pretending that the outside world doesn’t exist. Getting greasy and sweaty underneath and inside cars is the only way he’s been able to distract himself from the weight of an entire week of being ignored.

Cas broke his promise and Dean is _done._

Done with waking up with hope lingering in his chest, done with calling several times a day, done with texting.

Done with begging.

He tosses his lug wrench angrily and kicks at the stuck tire in front of him before stalking off to find the grinder.

If the damn lug nuts won’t come off the easy way, they’re sure as hell going to come off in a shower of sparks.

He’s such an idiot.

Cas made his stance on dating perfectly clear and then Dean had to pull that stupid stunt. The trouble is, he hadn’t meant to.

He only wanted to do something nice for his friend.

The fact that Cas is gorgeous, funny, caring, and basically everything Dean has ever looked for in a partner is just a bonus.

The restaurant just had to be candlelit and then boardwalk just had to be so perfect. Dark and quiet, romantic.

The worst part is that Cas had kissed him back. For a moment, Dean thought that maybe Cas had wanted him too. That Cas was willing to try.

Then Cas had come to his senses and Dean had never felt like more of an asshole.

He was stupid to think he had a chance of changing Cas’s mind and now he’s lost the one friend he had out here.

Fine.

If Cas doesn’t want to talk to him anymore, Dean will get over it.

Hopefully.

“Dean!” Bobby’s gruff voice calls from the back office. “What the hell you still doin down here?”

He’s jerked out of his thoughts and sucks in a sharp breath. “Just tryin to finish up that clunker with rusted lugs!” He shouts, praying that the frustration in his tone can be blamed on this damn car that would be worth more as scrap.

Bobby crosses the garage in a handful of purposeful steps with his hands on his hips. “The one that isn’t due to be picked up until Tuesday?” His brow is arched under the brim of his grimy ball cap and Dean swallows hard under the familiar glare.

He dips his chin once in a nod and licks his lips.

“The one I told you to leave for Ash?” Bobby’s brow arches further.

Dean frowns. “I just needed somethin to keep me busy,” he excuses as he wipes his brow with a passably clean rag from his back pocket.

“Uh-huh,” Bobby questions doubtfully. “You been doin everybody else’s job all week. I ain’t payin ya extra.” He points a finger toward Dean but the furrow in his brows and slight frown betray his concern.

Dean deflates and drops onto the stool next to the towering tool chest. “Sorry, Bobby.”

“Don’t be sorry boy.” Bobby pulls up a stool next to him and settles onto it. “Just thought you’d be happier now that you patched things up with your brother.”

Dean sighs and tips his chin toward the ceiling. “Sam is great. Fuck, Bobby…hey!” Dean cries out when Bobby smacks the back of his head harshly.

“Language, boy. You’re still on the clock.”

“Sorry,” Dean hurries to apologize, still rubbing the sting out of his scalp. “Having Sam back is better than I imagined. I couldn’t be happier about that.”

Bobby sucks in a long breath and lets it out slowly. “Then what gives? An no bullshitting me, you can’t bullshit a bullshitter.”

Dean’s eyeroll is stopped mid-execution by the glare he receives from underneath the rim of Bobby’s hat and his cheeks heat at the same time his stomach drops. “Cas won’t talk to me.”

Bobby pinches a frown and nods. “That’s that boyfriend of yours?”

Dean nods and then shakes his head before shrugging. “I thought we were getting somewhere but it’s been radio silence for a week now.”

Bobby sighs, buzzing his lips with the exhale. “You know I ain’t no good talking about this stuff.”

“That’s alright,” Dean hurries to dismiss, wiping his hands on the knees of his coveralls before pushing to his feet.

“I wasn’t finished ya idjit,” Bobby grumbles. “You remember when Ellen and me got together?” He looks to Dean expectantly, waiting for an answer.

Dean wracks his memory, trying to fit together the pieces he remembers from his childhood. Bobby’s first wife died before Dean knew him. Hell, Dean is pretty sure she was gone long before John and Bobby ever met. The same with Ellen’s late husband.

All Dean remembers is how much Ellen hated John Winchester for dumping his sons at Bobby’s and then disappearing.

Luckily, her ire didn’t spill over into how she treated them.

He shakes his head. “Not really.”

Bobby nods with a wry smile. “Didn’t think so. Anyway, took damn near six months of her pesterin me before I’d agree to a date. Didn’t think it was worth even trying, no one could live up to Karen.”

Dean sucks in a breath and shakes his head. “It’s not the same.”

“Damn right it ain’t.” Bobby tugs off his hat and runs his fingers through his thinning hair before shoving the dirty thing back onto his head. “But it sounds like that boy of yours is afraid to try. The reason don’t matter.”

“So, you think I shouldn’t give up,” Dean says, blowing out a heavy breath. Short of showing up at Cas’s doorstep, he doesn’t have a choice. He can’t force the man to pick up the phone.

“You like this guy?” Bobby shifts on his stool. Dean nods, stomach squirming as he waits for Bobby’s advice to come. “Have you directly asked him for a date?”

Dean grunts and shakes his head.

“Didn’t think so. He won’t answer the phone? Go talk to him. Face to face. Ask him out properly. Hell, bring him flowers if you want. If he says no, at least you’ll have an answer.” Bobby claps Dean on the shoulder and pushes to his feet. “Now, get the hell out of my garage.”

Dean sucks in a breath and nods. “Thanks, Bobby.” Maybe the old man is right. He’s been too much of a coward to just ask Cas for what he wants because he’s sure that he’ll be told no.

Rejection can’t be worse than this.

At least he’ll know for sure if he has a chance.

He watches Bobby shuffle into the office and lets out a deep sigh as he swallows down his nerves and checks the time.

If he hurries, he can be outside of Cas’s building when he’s leaving for work but his stomach twists at the thought.

Can he really force himself on Cas like that? He hangs his head as he locks up the garage and trudges up the stairs to his apartment with every possible scenario running through his mind.

Each idea is worse than the last and he closes his eyes against the pain as he drags himself into his bathroom and strips out of his greasy clothes. He sets the shower to near scalding without daring to check his reflection in the mirror.

He made that mistake yesterday and the dark circles under his eyes that have developed in the last week make him look almost a decade older than he is.

Not even the steaming water can soothe the ache in his bones or the tremble that returns to his hands every time his thoughts drift to how badly he screwed up. It would be so easy to walk down the block to the liquor store and lock himself in his apartment for the weekend with a couple of bottles of Jack.

Blindly, he twists the shower knobs and gasps with the sudden plunge in temperature as he forces his head under the freezing spray. The shock to his system dulls the cravings and he stumbles out, half washed, and grabs for his towel.

Once he’s dressed in jeans and an old t-shirt, he scavenges through his refrigerator and cupboards looking for something, anything that he can bring himself to eat but his stomach has twisted itself into forbidding knots.

Food is out of the question.

The ache in his chest deepens, forcing him to hang his head and grip the edge of the counter as he starts to count, breathing in and out in time with the numbers in his head as his heart races against the anxious thoughts competing in his mind.

“I can’t do this,” he mutters to himself, head hanging forward. If Cas wanted to talk to him, he would. Ambushing him is too much, too extreme.

He can’t do that to Cas.

A trip to the liquor store would be easier. Safer.

_No._

His eyes clench along with his jaw. No. No. No. He promised himself that he wouldn’t. He promised Bobby, Ellen, and Sam. He refuses to throw away the progress he’s made over the last four months.

The floor grows closer as his knees give out and he forces his body to turn so that he can lean against the cupboard.

Help. He needs help.

His fingers fumble for the phone in his pocket and he sucks in a deep breath as he finds Sam’s phone number and presses the call button.

Ringing fills his ear while he wonders how long it’ll be before his body stops betraying him like this. He _knows_ he’s okay, that he doesn’t need a drink.

He doesn’t even want one.

Yet here he is, barely hanging on every time he gets a little bit stressed.

He’s pathetic.

He’s every bit as weak as his dad said he was.

He’ll never be worth anything.

“Hey, Dean. What’s up?” Sam answers quickly and his bright tone instantly replaces the sneering voice in his head.

The suffocating lump in his throat suddenly releases and air forces itself inside his lungs with a gasping breath.

Dean nods, the tension draining from his body in a rush as he scrubs a hand over his face. “Hey man, just wanted to see how you’re doing?” Dean says, schooling his tone to hide the panic looming just out of sight.

Dean hears rustling in the background as Sam straightens and Dean can almost see his ears perking up with interest. “I’m good, just about to head into work.”

Dean nods and pretends his throat doesn’t tighten. “Ah, I won’t keep you then.”

“Hey, hold on a minute,” Sam blurts, “What, uh, what are you up to?”

Dean huffs a laugh. “Oh, just, you know, getting ready for a hot date.”

“Did Cas call you back?” Sam asks with hope tinging his tone.

“No, Sam. Pretty sure he’s done with me.” Dean rolls his eyes and drops his head back on the couch.

“Then who are you going…? Oh, you’re just being an ass. Got it.” Sam chuckles humorlessly. “Seriously, man, you okay?”

Dean lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He forces some humor into his voice but Sam’s huff tells him that he isn’t buying what he’s selling. “Just, uh, had a moment, you know?”

Sam hums into the phone. “I’m glad you called,” Sam says with a voice full of touching concern that Dean _knows_ is accompanied by a proud smile and a puffed-up chest.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, no chick flick moments.”

“Seriously, Dean. I’m proud of you,” Sam says.

He breathes in heavily through his nose, chest rising with the motion and he swallows down the emotion rising in his throat. “So, uh, family dinner tomorrow?” He wipes at his eyes and smiles softly, already starting to feel better.

“Of course, Ellen told me she was going to make apple pie,” Sam says and Dean lets out a cheer.

“Hell yes!” Dean pumps his fist and grins.

“Shit, I’ve got to get going. Are you going to be alright?” Sam asks hurriedly, his voice accompanied by the sound of a door slamming in the background.

Dean nods with a genuine smile. “Yeah, man. Thanks.”

“Any time, jerk,” Sam says.

“Bitch. See ya tomorrow.” Dean sucks in a cleansing breath through his nose and closes his eyes with a soft smile.

“Have a good night, Dean.” Sam hangs up and Dean tosses his phone onto the coffee table, feeling much more at ease than he had.

For the millionth time, Dean thinks back to Cas and warmth coils in his gut as he remembers how confident the other man had been that Sam had already forgiven him for the past.

“Fuck,” Dean groans, dropping his head back. He needs to stop thinking about bottomless blue eyes and that gummy smile.

He learned with the first girl he tried to get serious with that dwelling on his fuck ups will only make him feel worse. Cassie’s wide brown eyes going from sweet-hearted concern, to pity, and then to cold indifference when he finally told her about his childhood and his alcoholic father is something that he’ll never forget.

He does not want to see the same look mirrored in Castiel’s soulful blues.

This is for the best. Really. Not even the shaky breath he pulls in through his nose can convince him otherwise.

When his phone starts to ring, his attention jerks to the device and he stares with narrowed eyes. The only people who call him are Bobby, Ellen, and Sam. Sometimes Benny. He just talked to Sam and just saw Bobby an hour ago. He wouldn’t be calling him unless something was wrong.

His brows furrow as he reaches for the phone and his stomach does a surprised swoop when he sees unknown numbers flash across the screen.

“Hello?” He answers, fully expecting it to be a wrong number or a sales call.

“Dean?” An unfamiliar and very female voice questions before she breaks into a coughing fit that quickly becomes muffled.

“Who is this?” Dean holds his phone out to check the screen again but he still doesn’t recognize the series of numbers.

The woman on the other end takes a rattling breath before answering and Dean is nearly ready to hang up. “Meg, Meg Masters. Your boyfriend’s roommate.”

“If you’re talking about Cas, he isn’t my boyfriend.” Cas won’t give him a chance. “How’d you get this number, anyway?”

Meg hums. “Well, Clarence left his phone sitting out and I happened to notice how many unreturned calls and texts he had from you. Pretty desperate, aren’t you, Dean?”

“I’m not,” Dean huffs. “I just wanted to make sure he’s okay. He was pretty upset.”

“Ah yes, about that.” Meg clicks her tongue and Dean scowls as he glares at the blank wall ahead of him.

“What do you want, Meg?” Dean asks, tone hardening.

Meg sighs loudly into the phone. “Don’t tell him you heard it from me, but our little Angel has been miserable since your date. He’s so close to having something that he wants, but he’s convinced himself that you wouldn’t want him if you knew the truth.”

“He won’t give me the chance.” Dean is quickly running out of patience but his chest still tightens in anticipation. Cas should be telling him these things, not some woman Dean doesn’t even know.

“He’s a whore, Dean. We both are.” Dean’s heart nearly stops with her blunt words but she doesn’t bother stopping to wait for him to recover. “Now, my question is, how much does that matter to you?” Meg says, her particular brand of bluntness manages to cut through Dean’s heart and leave his mouth parched.

His faint suspicion is true. For once in Dean Winchester’s life, he wishes he was wrong.

No wonder Cas got so upset when he made that offhand remark. “I…” Dean starts before trailing off and swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “I don’t care.” He’s thought about this before and he doesn’t care what Cas does to get by.

“You say that now, but when you think about some random man fucking him in the ass for money, how does that make you feel?” Meg asks, tone rock hard and laser-sharp.

Dean sucks in a deep breath and closes his eyes. “I don’t like it, but I’d be a hypocrite to give him shit for it.” He isn’t lying. He knows what it’s like to do anything and everything you can just to get by.

“Good,” Meg snaps, the single word hanging heavily between them and Dean clutches his phone tightly. “I want him out of this life, Dean. Are you prepared to help make that happen?”

Dean lets out a shaky breath. “I can’t… I’m not going to try to force him to do something he doesn’t want to do.”

“You’re a good man,” Meg says approvingly. “You’re good for him, he’s just too stubborn to let himself have you.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Dean asks, voice small and uncertain. He scrubs his hand over his mouth and pinches his nose as he tries to find just a little more strength. “He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“You need to show him how you feel. Telling him isn’t going to be enough,” Meg answers easily, as if she had already planned out this entire conversation.

Maybe she has.

“How do I do that when he won’t even talk to me?” He doesn’t know what to do.

“You do exactly what I tell you,” Meg says with a devious smile in her voice.

Dean’s heart patters recklessly as he nods and sits up straighter. A little voice in the back of his mind still badgers him to give up, but the tight coil forming in his gut and the bright swell building behind his ribs demands he try one more time.

If whatever Meg has planned doesn’t work, nothing will.

\---

Dean’s stomach lurches and threatens to make him revisit whatever might be left of his lunch. Meg told him where to find her but he can’t help glancing around, waiting for the police to burst out of the shadows and arrest him for solicitation.

Even though that is _not_ what he’s doing here.

That still doesn’t change the way his fingers twitch next to his thighs as he struggles to not rub them together and crack his knuckles simply to have something to keep them occupied.

This plan is insane.

Meg is insane.

Dean understands now why Cas tried to keep him away from her.

She’s absolutely, without a doubt, insane.

Finally, he sees her. Hands in the pockets of her too short denim miniskirt with her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. With her pale skin and ruby red lips, she is striking.

Gorgeous.

“Hello, handsome,” Meg coos when he gets close enough and she steps forward, running a single finger down the center of his chest with a devilish grin.

“Meg.” Dean nods and takes a half step back as he gives her a pointed look. As pretty as she is, she isn’t the one he’s interested in.

Her pout of disappointment quickly turns into a pleased smirk. “You clean up well,” she says appraisingly as she scans him from head to toe.

He does the same, noting the swell of her ass nearly poking out from beneath her scuffed-up skirt and the ridiculous stilettos making her at least three inches taller than he knows her to be. The low-cut and sleeveless top she wears sparkles blue and green in the dim light of the streetlamps and leaves little to the imagination but is alluring nonetheless.

In another life, he might have been interested if not for one of his number one rules about sex.

_Never pay for it._

“I’m wearing almost the same thing I was the last time you saw me.” He’s fairly certain he’s wearing the exact same pair of jeans, but his shirt is more fitted this time and shows off his well-muscled shoulders.

Meg recommended something that looks more befitting for the gay bar down the street from where Cas hangs out, at least from a distance.

Dean’s stomach lurched at the idea but Meg was adamant.

He needs to blend in until the last second or else Cas might hide from him.

“Still, I think he’ll appreciate what he sees,” Meg reaches for his hand. “Seriously, Dean. I meant what I said.”

Dean nods, her fingers are cool in his hand and he tightens his grip comfortingly. He gets it. He really does. He’d do just about anything to make sure Sam was going to be okay if he were in their position.

That does little to help the ever-increasing doubt threatening to make him turn around and let his Baby take him home.

“You think he’ll go for this?” He chews his lip and gives up his attempt to keep his hands at his side.

Meg places her cool hand over his and forces them down. “Tell him the truth, _show_ him the truth. Hell, beg if you have to. He’s been pining after you for weeks.” Meg asks with a raised brow that demands obedience. “Do you remember the plan?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, blowing out a shaky breath.

A slow grin spreads over Meg’s features. “Good. Now, go get him, tiger.” Meg grins and nudges him in the right direction.

He sucks in a deep breath and nods. “Alright.” He nods again, trying to convince himself that he can do this.

“Hey!” He glares over his shoulder when he feels the sharp sting of a slap on his ass as he takes a step forward.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it!” Meg laughs with a wink and if Dean weren’t so nervous, he’d laugh a little himself.

As it is, he’s just trying not to get sick all over his shoes. Still, he can’t help the bubble of excitement in his chest as he makes his way toward the club Meg had told him about.

He hears the club before he sees it, the low bass resonating through his chest deep and rough. He coughs to clear the itch from his lungs and remind his heart that it does not need to keep rhythm with the rumbling music.

From the outside, the building doesn’t look like much and the stale scent of garbage permeates the back.

Disgusting.

The small back street is dark but his eyes quickly adjust to the low light, the red brick of towering old buildings becomes clearer and his shoes stick ever so slightly to the damp pavement with every step.

The smell thankfully clears as soon as he gets away from the club, leaving behind only the fetid damp and stale air of the city.

In the distance, Dean sees a shadow move, a person watching him approach and his stomach lodges in his throat. From this far away he can’t tell if that person is Castiel, but Meg promised him that Cas is the only one who sets up in this area. He slouches slightly and convinces his bowlegs to straighten as he dips his chin, trying to disguise himself just enough to avoid suspicion.

His heart threatens to vibrate out his chest when he hears the faint brush of fabric rubbing against brick and he forces himself to keep his hands open as he approaches.

“Hey there, handsome,” Cas’s familiar voice purrs from in front of him, and Dean’s stomach twists.

This is it.

He lifts his chin and fights not to close his eyes in dread.

“Dean!?” Cas gasps and takes hurried steps back when Dean meets his gaze. Those perfect blue eyes are rimmed in dark liner, making them stand out brilliantly against his sun-starved skin in the dim light of the alley.

He’s beautiful.

Cas backs away quickly, eyes blown wide as he shakes his head and holds out his hands as if he thinks Dean would even consider striking him. “This isn’t what it looks like,” he says and Dean’s heart threatens to break.

“Cas, hey, it’s alright. I came here looking for you,” Dean says, quickly closing the distance between them. “I know the truth and I don’t care.” He reaches out but his fingers still as Cas steps away quickly.

Cas shakes his head and lets out a squeak when he backs himself against the brick. “No, you can’t be here.”

“Cas,” Dean says, stepping into Cas’s space and placing a hand on the wall beside him as he strokes Cas’s cheek with the other. “Look at me, please.”

Cas’s chest shudders as he breathes but his eyes slowly blink open. “What are you doing here?” His voice is small yet defiant as he meets Dean’s stare. “How did you find me?” He lifts his chin and his nostrils flare as he breathes.

Dean drops his forehead against Castiel’s as he twines their fingers together. “Meg called me. She said…” He takes a deep breath and swallows hard. “She said I needed to show you how I feel.”

He can feel Cas swallow, the way his brow shifts with the motion as Dean’s heart clenching. “I’m nothing Dean, you don’t want me.”

“I do want you. Cas, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. Please, give me a chance.” Dean tightens his hold on Cas’s hand, emboldened by the squeeze he feels from the other man. “Give _us_ a chance.”

“Dean,” Cas whimpers.

“Hey! What’s going on here!” A strange voice calls out behind them and Cas startles as Dean spins. “Steve, this asshole giving you trouble?”

“Move along buddy,” Dean barks at the same time that Cas steps in front of him.

“It’s fine, Mick. He’s a friend.” Cas’s voice is strong but the way he angles himself in front of Dean has his hackles raising.

“Steve?” Dean demands, brow arched as he steps to stand next to Cas.

“Dean, stop it,” Cas hisses.

“Dean? This is _Dean?”_ Mick’s eyes darken and his jaw clenches. “You sure you’re alright? Just say the word and I’ll send him packing,” Mick cracks his knuckles, his accent thickening as he stares Dean down, sleek black car idling behind him.

“Yes. We’re all good here. I promise. See you next Thursday?” Cas shuffles in front of Dean again and pushes him back.

Dean grits his teeth and bristles at the hungry look in _Mick’s_ eyes as he rakes his gaze over Castiel.

Finally, Mick nods. “Yeah, sure.” His lips purse and his eyes linger a little too long for Dean’s liking. “Next week.” He turns to leave slowly, glancing over his shoulder suspiciously at Dean as he slides into his car.

Dean’s heart pounds and Castiel doesn’t move a muscle as Mick gives them one more wary look and slowly drives away accompanied by the sticky sound of warm tires on hot asphalt.

“Fuck,” Cas spins, covering his face with his hands as he tilts his chin toward the sky when Mick’s sedan is finally out of sight.

Dean takes a deep breath and takes care to school his tone before he opens his mouth. “That a customer of yours?”

Cas drops his hands and stares, his gaze hardening the longer he looks until Dean can see the walls growing behind those shadowed blue eyes.

Shit. Shit. _Shit._

“Yes. Dean. He is.” He steps forward with a fire burning in his gaze so intensely that Dean stumbles back, lifting his hands in surrender.

“He’s been paying me to blow him every Thursday for almost a year now. For the last month, he’s been paying $75 a week to fuck me. Is that what you want to hear? That I’m nothing but a hooker, as you put it?” Cas steps into Dean’s space, looming over him as Dean’s heart pounds.

“Cas,” Dean says, tone cracking.

“This is my reality, Dean. I’m sorry I lied to you, but…” Cas steps forward, full of righteous fury but Dean stops him with a gentle hand to the center of his chest.

“Cas,” Dean says again, forcing himself to meet the fire in Cas’s eyes as he swallows hard. “Can I kiss you?”

Cas’s brows furrow and the fire dims in his confusion. “What?”

“Can I kiss you?” It’s a simple question, but one that has Cas gaping like a fish. Dean steps forward but doesn’t reach out to touch. His heart hammers and his stomach twists at the sight of the latent fear in Castiel’s eyes. “I just want you, Cas. All of you.”

“Dean,” Cas whimpers and shakes his head as he lets Dean back him against the wall. “How can you be okay with this?” Doubt is strong in Cas’s voice but he doesn’t flinch when Dean takes his hand.

“Because I,” He pauses to take a deep breath, steeling himself to say the words he’s never said out loud, not even to himself. “I get it.” His heart pounds as he swallows hard. “Because I had to do the same, a long time ago.”

“Dean…” Cas interrupts but Dean silences him.

“No, let me… I need to tell you this.” He licks his lips and swallows against the roiling in his gut. “When me and Sammy were kids, our dad left us alone. A lot. Without enough money to pay for the motel room and food. It didn’t take me long to figure out some guys’ll pay good money to fuck some twink kid.”

Cas shakes his head with a pained frown and brings a hand to cup Dean’s cheek. “That’s horrible.”

Dean forces himself to give Cas a jerky as he covers Cas’s hand with his. “I did what I had to do.”

“Dean,” Cas says, his tone choked as a single tear escapes the corner of his eye.

“Am I okay with this?” Dean asks, shaking his head. “Honestly, no. I’m not. I want you to not have to do this, but I want to be with you a hell of a lot more.” He gathers Cas’s hands in his. “Please, Cas. Can I kiss you?”

Cas gives him a jerky nod and that’s all the permission Dean needs before he closes the space between them. His heart melts into the kiss at the first touch of Castiel’s pillow-soft lips to his and he can’t help the way he presses closer, needing to cement the taste of Cas in his memory.

Strong hands wrap around Dean’s waist and he swears he’s never felt a touch more perfect. Their mouths drag together, soft at first but rougher as they gain momentum and Cas groans as he spins Dean against the rough brick.

“Dean,” Cas gasps against Dean’s lips but Dean cuts him off with a needy whine before diving back in.

The wall is hard against Dean’s back but he’s content to let Cas pin him there. Frantic hands wander, clever fingers finding their way under the hem of his shirt until Cas is raking his blunt nails down his sides and around his hips. “Please, Cas,” Dean whimpers, not sure what he’s asking but he knows that he needs something more.

Cas smirks and the sudden fire in his eyes burns up any least vestige of doubt that may have been lingering. “Tell me you want more than this,” Cas says, hands stilling as he presses Dean against the wall with his hips.

Dean is half-hard against him, caught in the all-consuming whirlwind that is Castiel and he shifts his stance to create some space between them. This too much and not enough, too soon and yet late beyond imagination. He drops his brow to Cas’s as he toys with the belt loops of Cas’s jeans over his hips. He swallows hard, barely trusting his voice over his thundering heart. “So much more.”

Cas pulls back with a sharp breath and Dean immediately mourns the loss. “I need you to be sure, Dean. I can’t handle letting you in just to be thrown away because you can’t handle this.” He gestures around them at the dark alley and then to himself, from his kohl-rimmed eyes to the tight fit of his jeans that leaves very little to the imagination.

Dean reaches out but his hand stills halfway and he bites his lip as he nods. “I’m standing here with my eyes wide open, Cas.”

Cas swallows hard and nods but his expression is lax as he stares into Dean’s eyes.

Dean’s heart flutters as he steels his nerves. “I’m not going to throw you away. Ever.”

Cas lets out a shuddering breath and nods as he dives forward to capture Dean’s lips in a searing kiss that leaves them both trembling. “Good,” Cas says with a smile pressed against Dean’s. “Let’s go somewhere else?”

Dean can’t do anything more than nod as Cas steps back and laces their fingers together. “Wh…where?” Dean finally asks as Cas tugs him away from the wall.

The smile Cas flashes him is devious and sends heat shooting down Dean’s spine fast enough to make him shiver. “Your place?”

The heat in his spine moves forward, making his dick twitch in his pants as he nods dumbly.

Cas’s smile warms. “There are some things we should talk about.”

Dean nods again and swallows thickly. “Talk. Yeah.” At this rate, he’ll do anything Cas wants if that means he’ll have the chance to prove he’s worth the effort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... finally?


	9. The night that words are overrated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They should talk, they really should, but Dean is right there, looking at him like that and Cas is probably going to puke if he doesn't find his footing soon. With a thousand conflicting thoughts and emotions running through him, he needs something familiar. Something he knows he can do. 
> 
> It doesn't hurt that he's been fantasizing about this for weeks. 
> 
> They can talk later.

Cas’s knee jiggles and he holds his hands tight in his lap as Dean drives. A moment of boldness got him here and the ghost of Dean’s taste still lingers on his lips, a tantalizing promise of everything he’s denied himself since moving to California. He’s done his best to avoid letting himself give in, but it seems his roommate wasn’t above going behind his back.

He’s going to murder Meg.

And then he’s going to kiss her.

On the cheek.

Tomorrow.

After he turns his wayward fantasies into a delightful reality and learns every freckle on Dean’s body like his heart has been begging him to do for weeks.

Then he’ll kill her.

Maybe.

He closes his eyes and lets out a heavy breath as he drops his head back against the seat. He doesn’t know what he’s doing here, with Dean or with his life. His knee jiggles faster as doubt demands too large a share of his attention. For the first time in ages, unadulterated want swirls in his gut and his heart warms every time he catches Dean’s shy smile.

Dean says he’s okay with Cas being a common street whore but Cas can’t bring himself to trust that. Not really. Sure, Dean might have fun fucking around with a prostitute for a while but what about when Meg gets too sick and he’s torn between making money and taking care of her? What will Dean do with a boyfriend who is so far out of touch with society that he doesn’t even have a valid ID and who’s only real skill is giving head?

He’s going to get his heart broken, he already knows. Yet he can’t resist the temptation of what Dean is offering.

He jams his hands between his knees to hold himself still. He doesn’t dare look across the bench seat, his entire body might follow to close the space between them and he needs Dean to focus on driving.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks, his voice so small and fragile that Cas is afraid to move lest he shatter something precious.

He sniffles and blinks the fog from his eyes as he nods with pursed lips. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says with false cheer as he turns a smile toward Dean.

If Dean’s frown is anything to go by, he isn’t falling for it.

“Cas, we don’t have to go back to my place, we can go anywhere.” Dean casts him a worried glance as he pulls into a bank of empty parking spaces.

_No no no,_ Cas pleads internally. For too long, sex has been a means of survival and not something enjoyable, but his hands ache to touch Dean and his ears demand to learn every pleasured sound he can coax from Dean. He needs this too much to back out now.

Assuming Dean even wants to go there so soon. He said they need to talk, and they should.

But, would it be so bad if they put off their talk just a little bit longer?

“No.” Cas swallows hard. “I, I want… I want to try this with you.” He reaches across the bench to rest his hand on Dean’s thigh. Sex, a relationship… whatever Dean is ready for.

“I’m sensing a _but,”_ Dean says as he covers Cas’s hand with his.

He wishes this was easier. If he had met Dean years ago, he wouldn’t have had a second thought. Dean is easily the most handsome man he’s ever met, he’s funny, kind, and generous too. Everything Cas could ever want in a partner.

A few weeks ago, being with someone because he wanted to was an obscure idea to help him get through the night. Now, with Dean’s hopeful green eyes trained on him, Castiel can’t help the mirrored feeling swirling low in his stomach and catching in his throat.

He breathes deep and nods. “I’m just nervous.”

That isn’t even very far from the truth.

Dean nods in understanding and squeezes Cas’s hand. “Me too.”

Cas breathes in through his nose, savoring the faint scent of old leather and the hint of Dean’s aftershave that permeates the air inside the car. He turns his wrist to lace their fingers together and smiles softly. “Take me home, Dean.”

Butterflies erupt in his stomach at the sight of Dean’s shiver as he puts the car back into gear and pulls away from the curb. Oh yeah, Dean isn’t going to take much convincing and the thought is as thrilling as it is nerve-wracking.

The rest of the drive is spent with their hands clasped in the middle of the seat while Cas watches the lights of the city flashing by. It isn’t long until Dean pulls up behind the garage and cuts the engine, shrouding them in the type of silence that makes Castiel’s heart pound.

“I, uh, I live upstairs. It’s not much but…” Dean trails off as he rubs the back of his neck.

“I’m sure it’s lovely,” Cas says with a smile as he forces himself to move. He trails behind Dean as he lets them in through the back and his stomach twists as he watches the sway of Dean’s ass as they climb the stairs.

He barely manages to restrain himself from touching as he watches Dean fumble with his keys, green eyes darting to him anxiously as the other man lets out a nervous chuckle. “Stop staring,” Dean grumbles even as his lips twitch upward at the corners.

Cas smirks and rolls his eyes, tilting his gaze toward the ceiling so Dean can focus on the task at hand.

“S’not my fault you stare like it's your job,” Dean mutters as he finally fits the key into the lock and turns, the click abnormally loud in the silence between them.

The door groans open slowly as Cas chuckles. “You’re nice to look at,” he says with a shrug, feeling braver now that they’re approaching familiar territory. He wants little more than to taste every inch of Dean and count his freckles with kisses, to indulge himself and maybe in indulged in return.

The instant they’re through the door, Cas kicks it closed and spins Dean against the smooth surface with a small grunt from the effort. He doesn’t give Dean a chance to react before pushing their lips together roughly and working his hands underneath Dean’s shirt and rucking it up slightly. He can’t help the needy whimper that tears free from his throat as unfamiliar heat pools in his groin when his fingers finally brush along the unblemished skin of Dean’s sides.

The last years have taught him to submit, to let others take what they want from his body, but the way Dean gives himself over so readily has a desperate whine escaping this throat.

Dean bares his neck to Castiel’s kisses, ready and willing to be taken and Castiel feels like he might explode with each new breathy moan that escapes from Dean’s lips.

There is no more thinking, only the rough and sensual grind of their lips and the mess of blindly wandering hands, determined to explore every inch of each other.

A shiver races up his spine and his dick twitches in the confines of his jeans when Dean’s calloused fingers finally work their way underneath his thin t-shirt to grasp his hips and haul him closer. Their erections brush together through their pants and Cas is nearly ready to weep at the sensation.

As accustomed as he is to being touched and used, the reverence with which Dean showers him with is overwhelming. He can’t remember the last time he felt the heat of another cock against his or the promise that comes with kisses so deep that his soul quivers in his chest.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean breathes against his lips. “Are you sure you want to do this?” His hands don’t stop moving, fingertips digging into the meat of Cas’ ass to haul him closer even as his words cast uncertainty.

Cas dips to kiss along Dean’s neck as his fingers drift to the front of Dean’s jeans. “Stop talking,” he mutters before recapturing Dean’s lips with a demanding moan. There are so many things to be uncertain of but turning men into putty with his body is one thing he knows well.

They’ll have time for words later.

The rough drag of their stubble has arousal spiking in Cas’ gut, the feeling foreign but entirely welcome as Dean’s work rough hands tickle over his back with more care than he’s experienced in years. He licks inside Dean’s mouth, the other man’s lips parting readily with a heady groan that goes straight to his thickening cock.

His head swims with wanton desire as he runs his hands frantically over Dean’s flushed skin, needing to ground himself in something familiar even if the body above him is something out his wandering fantasies. He swallows hard against Dean’s lips, heart pounding out of control as his throat tightens.

He needs this, more than food in his belly and a roof over his head. He needs to learn Dean’s touch before the rug is pulled out from under him and he loses everything. His heart races, demanding action even as his stomach quivers and threatens to revolt as adrenaline floods his system.

Too many clothes. They need to be gone. Now. He can’t help the frustrated moan that escapes him, high pitched and needy as his hands drift lower toward Dean’s belt and push his shirt out of the way.

“Cas,” Dean gasps and surges forward, their mouths working together roughly. He’s going to have stubble burn but he doesn’t care. Can’t care. Not with Dean’s soft green eyes darkening with lust and the hefty bulge pushing at the front of Dean’s jeans beckoning him closer for a taste.

“Wa…wait,” Dean urges when Cas gets his trembling hands on his belt and starts to pull.

That will never do. Urgency overcomes him and his breath comes in short bursts as his practiced fingers work to undo Dean’s buckle and button.

“Cas,” Dean pushes him back just as Cas drops to his knees and tugs on Dean’s zipper frantically.

He almost has Dean’s jeans open but his fingers suddenly become clumsy and his nerves begin to riot, slowing his progress to a crawl. Between blinks, green eyes fill his vision and he blinks some more against the change, only now realizing how watery his eyes have become.

“Cas,” Dean says softly as he strokes Cas’ cheek and guides his chin upward.

Cas clenches his eyes, his chest heaving as he sucks in ragged breaths and clutches at Dean’s shoulders. “Please,” Cas mutters as his hands drift lower, brushing lightly over Dean’s half-open zipper.

Dean leans forward and presses their lips together sweetly. The tender touch makes Cas’ shoulders sag and the urgency of the moment flees in favor of reveling in the minty taste still clinging to Dean’s lips. “Slow down, baby,” Dean murmurs as he rakes his nails gently over the sharp cut of Cas’ shoulder blades and down his spine as they scoot closer on their knees. “Are you sure you want this?”

Cas’s breath catches when he meets Dean’s wide green eyes, earnest and tender. Yes. He wants this. He has sex almost every day and yet this is the first time in years he’s felt this kind of want.

He nods, a shiver rolling up his spine until he’s compelled to drift forward and capture Dean’s pouty lips in a soul-deep kiss. “Want you,” he mutters, the sensation reaching deep into his bones and dominating his thoughts.

Dean’s fingers tangle in his hair and blunt nails scratch his scalp deliciously as he directs their kiss. Excitement bubbles in Cas’ chest as he lets Dean guide him, giving himself over happily to Dean’s whims. “Fuck, Cas,” Dean moans as he chases Cas’ tongue and tilts his head back as he scoots forward to press their chests together.

“Do you, Dean? Do you want this?” Cas pulls back and sucks in a ragged breath as he smirks, suddenly feeling bold. “Do you want to fuck me?” His heart flutters as desire stabs impatiently in his gut but he isn’t prepared for Dean’s reaction.

“No,” Dean croaks, shaking his head.

“No?” Cas’ hopes plummet but Dean doesn’t allow him to back away.

“I want,” Dean starts but shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “I want you to… I want you to fuck _me._ ” Dean licks his lips and drops his gaze nervously as red-hot desire flares low in Cas’ belly. “I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s fine, I just really like…”

“Yes,” Cas cuts him off. “Hell, yes.” His hands drift down Dean’s back to cup his ass and haul him forward, pressing their half-hard dicks together. Lightening skitters down his spine and makes his heart race when he takes in Dean’s lust-drunk gaze. “Bedroom?”

Dean nods lazily and allows Cas to help him to his feet before their hands find each other as if they’ve been doing this dance for years. He lets himself be led, his heart pounding wildly as he takes a second to check his surroundings.

Dean’s apartment is small and nearly void of decoration, not surprising considering what Cas knows about the man. The sight ahead of him is far more enticing than Dean’s neatly kept space that holds the faint smell of automotive grease and lingering exhaust from the garage below.

The way Dean’s jeans hug his ass has Cas biting at his lip and he takes a hurried step forward so he can plaster himself to Dean’s back and grind his hardening dick against that perfect swell.

“Easy there,” Dean chuckles as he trips toward and keeps them both upright. Cas nips and sucks at the juncture of Dean’s shoulder, delighting in the empowering freedom he feels with Dean leaning into his touch. He isn’t pleasing a client, he isn’t trying to eat or pay rent, he has nothing to worry about other than the feeling of Dean’s body against his and their mutual pleasure.

Any concern that Dean was only interested in him because he thought he would be a fun lay evaporated with Dean’s desire to be topped. No one pays him to fuck them. That isn’t what men want when they come looking for his services. He wraps his arms around Dean’s middle and holds him close, delighting in the simple purity of this moment as he presses adoring kisses to the column of Dean’s throat.

The way Dean drops his head back against his shoulder and covers his hands as they start to sway in the middle of the carpeted hall manages to settle something deep inside him. A piece of himself that he thought had died a long time ago comes to life and hot tears prickle in the corners of his eyes.

“I thought we were going to the bedroom?” Dean mutters his question as he presses back into Castiel’s warmth.

Delight bubbles up in Cas’ stomach, bursting free in the form of a huff of laughter as he buries his smile against Dean’s throat. He hums lightly in Dean’s ear and nods against the man’s shoulder. “We are,” he mutters, voice low and gravel rough.

Whatever he needs to do to keep _this,_ he doesn’t care. He’ll do it.

He frees his hands and grips Dean’s hips to spin him around, claiming his lips in a searing kiss. Dean’s fingers immediately find their way into his hair, tugging at the long strands and sending sparks of pleasure down Cas’ spine. He can’t help his moan, his simple need to be closer as he backs Dean down the hall toward the only door remaining.

Jackpot.

A huge bed takes up most of the space, unmade and absolutely perfect for what he has in mind. His nimble fingers finish the work he started on Dean’s jeans as Dean takes a moment to tug his shirt over his head.

Cas’s shirt quickly follows, discarded somewhere on the floor that he could not care less about as Dean’s broad chest is exposed in front of him. “Dean,” he says the name like a prayer, the answer to everything he’s ever wanted right here in front of him, wrapped up in one gorgeous package.

He pushes Dean back, sending him tumbling onto the mattress before shucking off his jeans in one practiced motion. Dean watches hungrily, his green eyes darkening as Cas saunters toward the bed and climbs over him with feline grace.

Dean falls against the pillows with wide eyes and parted lips. Cas can feel those green eyes studying him, from his toned stomach to muscled shoulders and his chest swells with confidence. He isn’t ashamed of his body, he knows he’s attractive, but the hunger in Dean’s gaze still makes his stomach flip proudly.

Dean’s fingers find their way to stroke lightly over Cas’ ribs, the bone protruding more than it once did but he can’t be bothered by that now. Not with perfectly smooth skin to caress and freckles to kiss.

“Lemme,” Dean gasps as he tugs Cas lower and makes to flip them. Cas’s back hits the mattress with a dull thud instead of the expected bounce and his brows knit in confusion. “Memory foam.” Dean grins as he hovers above Cas, staring down with so much fondness reflected in those green eyes that Cas’ throat burns when he tries to swallow around the lump that forms there.

Dean is oblivious to the effect he has, filling Cas’ head with crazy notions of finding his way to a better life and leaving the last few years behind him until all Cas can see is a pair of verdant eyes staring down at him, willing him to be a better person. “You’re fucking perfect,” Dean mutters as he captures Castiel’s lips tenderly.

Cas leans into the kiss eagerly, pouring his hopes and desires into the simple touch of their lips as Dean lowers himself to press their bare chests together. “Please,” Cas whimpers, needing to be touched with the same care reflected in the soft set of Dean’s gaze. All the stars in the sky can’t compare to the sudden clarity bursting forth in his mind and the desperation twining its way between his ribs.

Dean kisses a trail across Castiel’s cheek and down his throat as he whispers sweet nothings into Cas’s skin that set his heart pattering wildly. “Dean,” Cas croaks, his voice trembling with the rest of him under Dean’s touch. “I want,” he tries to put his thoughts into words but Dean does something absolutely sinful with his tongue that short circuits his brain and leaves him gasping for air.

Dean laves his tongue across the pert bud of Cas’ nipple, pulling a whimper from him that turns into a sharp cry when Dean adds a hint of teeth. “What do you want?”

“I need,” Cas starts to say but swallows around his wayward thoughts. He needs far more than he can ask of Dean, far more than he could stand to burden this beautiful man with.

“Hmm?” Dean hums, his lips curling against Cas’ chest.

He swallows hard around the lump in his throat and shoves down his lingering insecurities. “Touch me?” He shifts his hips, doing his best to ignore the little spike of doubt that comes with asking for his own pleasure.

Dean surges forward to draw him into a heated kiss that makes Cas’s head swim as their tongues meet and Dean’s work-roughened fingers wrap around his aching dick.

“Ungh,” Cas cries out as his hips jerk involuntarily when Dean squeezes and jacks him just this side of not enough. “Dean.” His eyes clench and he swallows hard as he rakes his nails lightly over Dean’s sides and up to his shoulders.

Dean chuckles darkly and continues, hastening his movements as he scoots lower until he lowers his lips a hair’s breadth from the crown of Cas’s cock and looks up at him through his lashes.

His hips flex of their own accord as his eyes feast of the picture Dean makes. Full, perfectly bowed lips slightly parted and kiss swollen so close to where Cas wants them would be enough to drive him mad even without those green eyes blinking at him through long lashes in a perfect picture of debauchery.

Cas can’t help but stare at the perfection in front of him.

A heartbeat later, Dean flushes and drops his gaze as he settles back on his heels, drawing away from Cas entirely.

Castiel props himself up on his elbows and his stomach drops as Dean moves away. “Dean?” He can’t help the way his brows knit in concern and his gut prepares for the burning sting of rejection.

“I should have asked before… fuck, why is this so hard?” He trails off with a disconcerting chuckle. “Are… are you clean?” He looks up with wide eyes that remind Cas of the pound puppy toys he had as a child and his lips pinch into an apologetic frown.

Cas gives Dean a jerky nod. “That is a perfectly valid question, Dean,” Cas answers, softening his tone as he offers a shy smile. “My test came back clean last week, and I always use condoms. But I understand if you don’t want to take that risk.”

Damn his brain for formulating words with such ease. A younger version of himself might have been offended by Dean’s question, sure that the man only asked because of what Cas does for a living. He’s certain though, that for all he doesn’t know about Dean Winchester, that Dean wouldn’t ask him such a thing derisively.

Dean breathes in harshly and nods. Cas can almost see the wheels turning behind his closed eyelids.

This is another hurdle they will need to overcome if they want to continue but it has to be Dean’s choice. Cas closes his eyes with a sharp inhale and waits for the inevitable.

“Okay,” Dean says, tone firm with the power of his conviction as he stretches himself over Cas to reach into the drawer of his nightstand.

Cas watches with tightness in his chest as Dean pulls out an unopened box of condoms and he shakes his head at Dean’s smirk as the man tears open the cardboard and dumps the strip of foil packets on the bed.

“What? I was hopeful.” Dean shrugs. “I want to be with you, okay?” He runs his fingertips over Cas’ jaw and bends down to kiss him gently.

Hope and heat sear in his veins regardless.

Cas sucks in a breath and nods when Dean pulls back, unaware that his trepidation had been so obvious. He opens his mouth to apologize but Dean silences him with a finger over his lips.

“Don’t. We’ll just be extra careful, okay?” Dean comforts and Cas nods despite the tightness in his throat. Dean tears open a packet as he reaches lower to stroke Cas’s dick back to life. “I want you too much to stop now.”

Cas moans and drops back against the mattress as his eyes slide closed. Dean’s hand is perfection around his dick and his stomach flutters when he peels his eyes open to take in the green that his dreams are made of.

Dean is real and warm on top of him, touching him without hesitation while Cas stares, slack-jawed and unable to move. He’s pulled out his trance when Dean resumes his earlier position and carefully rolls the condom over Cas’s erection.

He opens his mouth to ask what Dean is doing, but his ability to form coherent thoughts is robbed from him when Dean wraps his plush lips around the head of his dick and hollows his cheeks with suction. “Dean!” Cas cries out, fisting the sheets as Dean takes more of him inside his mouth.

Dean blinks up at him through his lashes, gaze flitting to Castiel’s hands then meeting his gaze with an arched brow, silently demanding as he swirls tongue.

Cas gets with the program quickly, tangling his fingers in the longer hairs on the top of Dean’s head and tugging just enough to draw a rumbling groan out of Dean as he bobs his head in earnest. “Fuck,” he pants, eyes watering with the surge of pleasure coursing through his veins.

Dean’s hands are hot brands on his hips, pinning him down with a warning growl that creates brain-melting vibrations around his dick has him sinking against the bed with a whimper. Dean’s tongue is clever, far more so than Castiel had expected but he can’t be bothered with _thinking_ right now.

Not when Dean keeps prodding at his slit with that genius tongue before sinking down with all the suction of a vacuum and threatens to send him careening over the edge and into oblivion.

“Dean, slow down,” He’s ready to beg and he flexes his fingers in the silky strands of Dean’s hair, using the last of his focus to push Dean off his cock. “I’m not going to last if you keep doing that.” The offer Dean laid before him only a few moments ago is still fresh in his mind and he cannot imagine turning the man down.

As perfect as his plush lips look wrapped around his cock, his pert ass would be even better.

Dean pulls off with a wet pop and licks the sheen from his lips before giving Cas a lopsided grin. “That okay?”

Cas huffs a disbelieving laugh and meets Dean’s eyes with a slight shake of his head.

As if having his dick in Dean’s mouth could be described as anything other than transcendent.

“Perfect,” Cas says honestly, watching Dean shift forward as a warmth blooms in his chest that Cas had thought died a long time ago. He lifts his hands to brush light fingers over Dean’s thighs and down to his knees where they’re straddling his sides.

Dean’s skin is soft under hand and dusted with sparse hair that nearly disappears against his skin. Cas swallows hard and his heart patters with excitement as his gaze travels from Dean’s weeping cock to his luck darkened eyes, skimming over his toned chest and slightly soft stomach on the way.

“You’re perfect.” Cas tugs him down, bringing their lips together even as he attempts to roll them once more. Dean laughs awkwardly into the kiss and pulls back, silently gesturing for Cas to move so he can lay in his place.

“You wanna do this face to face?” Dean asks, nervously biting his lip as he looks anywhere but into Cas’s eyes once he’s settled between Dean’s spread thighs.

Cas nods, smile stubbornly etched onto his face. “If you’re amenable.”

“If I’m…” Dean arches a brow and shakes his head. “Fuck yeah, I’m amenable, Cas.”

“Lube?” Cas doesn’t dare think too deeply on Dean’s eager expression, not when a condom is still clinging to his hard dick and the echoes of Dean’s lips wrapped around him are still creating sparks low in his gut.

Dean jerks his head toward the nightstand. “Drawer.” His fingers dig into the meat of Cas’s thighs, holding him in place as he stretches over Dean to reach the promised lube.

Cas straightens with his prize, quickly flipping the cap and pouring a good amount on his fingers as Dean lifts his knees to give Cas better access. “Can I blow you?” Cas glances at the condoms, wanting desperately to go without even though he knows they shouldn’t take that risk.

“I’m clean,” Dean says easily, meeting Castiel’s gaze despite the flush to his cheeks.

Cas nods as he leans down and trails kisses over the softness of Dean’s stomach as his slick fingers nudge their way to the furled muscle of Dean’s opening. He teases slowly, making light circles with the pad of his finger before pressing ever so slightly at the center to make Dean gasp and writhe.

By the time Cas has reached the smattering of coarse hair at the base of Dean’s tempting cock, he’s barely got the tip of his index finger worked inside the other man.

“Damn it, Cas!” Dean protests as he flexes his hips, trying to drive Cas deeper.

“Patience,” Cas mutters as his kisses trail to the inside of Dean’s thigh. He nips lightly, pulling a gasp from Dean before he soothes the sting with his tongue. “Condom?” Cas asks, arching a brow as he lets his warm breath puff over the head of Dean’s cock.

Dean shakes his head. “Trust you,” he mutters to Castiel’s surprise.

He arches his brow higher and meets Dean’s lust darkened eyes curiously, scarcely believing what he thinks he’s hearing. The ribbon of condoms lays within easy reach of Dean’s hand but the man makes no move to hand them over.

“Wanna feel you, Angel,” Dean murmurs and Cas pinches a frown at the endearment.

He’s no Angel.

The flex of Dean’s hips draws his attention back to Dean and his cheeks color as he ducks his chin.

The warmth of Dean’s hand catches his when he reaches for the strip of condoms and he meets Dean’s gaze curiously. He knows what Dean said, but he doesn’t want to assume that is what he met.

Dean shakes his head minutely and chews his lip. “Only if you want them,” Dean mutters, his voice small and cautious and his eyes shine with trust that makes Cas’s chest constrict.

Their eyes lock for what feels like an eternity as Cas forces himself to consider. Dean’s chest heaves and his cock twitches in Castiel’s hand with each beat of his head, hurrying his thoughts and dampening his caution.

Decision made, he flashes Dean a sunny grin before quickly swallowing down his cock without any more preamble.

Dean thrashes below him, cursing and tangling demanding fingers in his hair as Cas sucks and swallows around his hard length. He uses every trick he’s learned to wring torturous pleasure from the man below him and revels in the sounds he manages to procure.

The faint taste of pre-come on his tongue draws a heady moan that goes straight to his cock, still sheathed in latex and growing impatient. He’s missed this, the sensation of someone he cares about heavy on his tongue, filling his mouth with needy fingers tugging at his hair.

The single finger he snuck inside of Dean quickly becomes two, stroking over his silky insides in search of that wonderful spot that he’s sure will drive Dean wild.

His mouth and fingers work in tandem, determined to learn every motion that will keep drawing more of these wonderful sounds from Dean and keep him babbling nonsensical praise until he’s come undone completely.

“Cas, Cas,” Dean chants, fingers tightening and twisting just on the right side of painful. “Fuck,” Dean cries out and arches, making Cas smile around the dick in his mouth.

He sucks, hard and fast as he flicks his tongue against Dean’s frenulum, delighting in the strangled cry he draws.

“Cas,” Dean whimpers, tugging him off. Cas swallows down Dean’s taste and meets his watering eyes.

“Yes, Dean?” He asks, voice wrecked and full of crushed gravel as he smirks.

Dean shakes his head and huffs a disbelieving laugh. “Fuck,” he breathes, panting as he drops his head back against the pillow. “Gonna kill me like that.”

Cas grins and crooks his fingers, nearly barking a laugh when Dean’s back arches as he curses.

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean gripes but his laughing grin gives him away. “Gonna fuck me before you kill me?”

Cas hums thoughtfully and carefully withdraws his fingers before slinking up Dean’s body to draw him into a heated kiss. “I suppose I should, I’m not into necrophilia.”

Dean tosses his head back and laughs, teeth gleaming in the low light of the room. “Asshole,” he mutters under his breath even as he lifts his hand to stroke Cas’ too-long hair out of his eyes.

Their eyes meet and Cas feels something click inside of him as his heart clenches with affection for this man. Love is too strong a word, but he knows if left unchecked, this softness might grow until it consumes him entirely and destroys everything his life has become.

Try as he might, he cannot imagine a better fate.

He licks his lips and sucks in a shuddering breath. Every piece of armor he’s built over the last several years has been poked at and prodded until each weak spot lies exposed and ready for Dean to peel away from his soul.

And he’s certain that Dean has no idea what he’s done.

He presses their lips together with a whimper that refuses to be silenced as Dean frames his cheeks with his hands. He pours himself into the kiss, needing to silently convey the overwhelming weight of the sensations swirling around in his chest.

They’re both breathing heavily when they part and Cas straightens, hiking Dean’s knees up to expose his waiting hole. “Ready?” Cas questions softly as he reaches for the lube.

Dean swallows hard and nods, green eyes tracking Castiel’s every motion with unfettered want until Cas has himself lubed up and pressing for entry.

He chews on his lip as he presses forward, Dean’s tight heat welcoming him inside inch by tedious inch as the man trembles around him.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean gasps and clenches his eyes as he throws his head back into the pillow. Cas has to stretch forward and capture Dean’s parted lips to keep himself from slamming forward before Dean is ready.

Dean is gorgeous below him with a light sheen of sweat glistening on his golden freckled skin, stretched long and held taut like a bowstring. Cas presses forward, so slowly that his arms tremble and his mouth refuses to form any words beyond rambling muttering of Dean’s name as he finally bottoms out.

“Cas,” Dean croaks as his back arches and he pushes his head hard into the pillow, baring his throat to Castiel’s tender kisses as he struggles for self-control.

He refuses to rush this.

Cas sucks in a deep breath as he reaches between them and takes Dean’s thick erection in hand, stroking him lazily back to full hardness as his tongue swipes across Dean’s lip. “Perfect, Dean.” He grinds small circles against the swell of Dean’s ass, clenching against the swell of pleasure threatening to make this venture end far too soon. “You feel so good.”

He can barely believe he’s here, that he can have this.

The overwhelming problems in his life fade away as he stares into Dean’s lust darkened eyes and feels sharp nails dig into his forearms. Dean tightens around him, sending shards of jagged pleasure shooting down his spine fast enough to make him bury his face in the crook of Dean’s neck with a grumble of dissent. “Dean,” Cas chastises against the warm skin under his nose. He sucks in a deep breath, grounding himself in the faint smell of something uniquely _Dean._

“What?” Dean questions, tone far too cocky for Castiel’s liking as he shifts his hips. “Don’t like it when I do this?” He clenches again, pushing himself down on Cas’s cock with a smirk.

Cas rumbles low in his throat as he lifts his chin to squint at Dean with pursed lips and a furrowed brow. “Unless you want this to be over before it even starts, cut it out.”

He needs just a little more time to adjust to tightness around his dick and the riot of excitement building low in his stomach.

Not to mention the awe he feels simply staring down at the strong and beautiful man beneath him.

Dean chuckles and rolls his hips as Cas straightens, staring down at the point where their bodies are connected. “Dean.” Cas slaps Dean’s thigh lightly, the stinging sound echoing much louder than the force behind it and Dean’s wide-eyed look of surprise has Castiel smirking.

“Fuck,” Dean moans, pressing his head back. “Do that again.”

Cas obliges, slightly harder this time and he stares in wonder at the faint flush of heated pink that rises against the creaminess of Dean’s skin. He’s nearly overcome with the sudden desire to mark Dean up, to claim him as his so no one can look at Dean without knowing who he belongs to.

He gives an experimental shift of his hips, drawing out ever so slightly before pushing back in. If Dean’s heady moan is any indication, he needs to do that again.

Immediately.

“Are you ready?” Cas asks despite the way Dean pushes back to meet him.

Dean rolls his eyes and braces his hands under his knees to hold his legs out of the way. “If you don’t start moving, so help me I’m gonna…”

Dean’s scowling threat is cut off by an abrupt cry when Cas pulls out nearly entirely and slams back in with a devilish smirk.

“That better?” Cas arches a brow, preparing to repeat the motion.

Dean pants, eyes blown wide. “Fuck, Cas!”

Cas drives home, again and again, slowly inching Dean up the mattress until his head begins to brush the wall behind them. Only then does Cas slow, using the new pace to heft Dean’s hips and drag him harder onto his cock.

Dean’s fingertips dig into his thighs, leaving red crescents behind in Castiel’s skin as he cries out again and again. “Fuck, right there, Cas. Right fucking there.”

Cas smirks even as the pressure builds at the base of his cock. He knows he isn’t going to last much longer with Dean squeezing around him and thrashing with each thrust against his prostate, but the feeling of power coursing through him is too precious to give up so soon.

The way Dean’s eyes have gone glassy and unfocused, the way his hard and flushes cock bobs against his stomach with each thrust, drooling a trail of precome that Cas would love to lave his tongue through if he could reach… every one of Dean’s pleasured and fucked out sounds sends a thrill through him that is impossible to ignore.

Dean is beautiful, precious, strong, and chose him. For whatever reason, Dean chose him and Cas feels like he could fly.

“Cas,” Dean croaks, lifting a trembling hand to stroke his throbbing erection. “M’close.”

Cas grins and drops his chin to his chest, sweaty hair dropping against his brow and obscuring his view of Dean’s face as he continues to assault Dean’s prostate with every other pass. “Me too,” he manages to pant between breaths as his gaze fixates on the way his cock disappears so easily into Dean’s body.

“Come on me,” Dean begs, causing Cas to jerk his head up to stare into those bottomless green eyes. “Please, wanna see you.”

Cas nods and sucks in a shuddering breath. “You first, come on. Come for me,” Cas demands, each word punctuated with a harsh thrust of his hips as his hand joins Dean’s in stripping his cock.

Dean arches blow him, tensing with a garbled cry as his dick begins to spurt, coating their joined hands and streaking his belly with white as Cas watches with wide eyes.

Cas fucks him through it, awestruck by the sight of Dean’s unhinged pleasure as he clamps down on his own impending release without mercy until Dean’s dick begins to flag and his cries of ecstasy turn to oversensitive whimpers.

Sharp pleasure builds, spiraling upward and outward as his balls tighten. He can’t hold on much longer, not when Dean is watching him so closely, the fire burning deep in his green eyes finally sated even as he meets him thrust for thrust.

“Cas,” Dean whimpers, throwing his head back.

Castiel can’t help the noise of frustration that escapes when he feels his pleasure crest and he forces himself to pull free from the warmth of Dean’s body. He quickly rips off the condom as Dean watches hungrily and roughly strokes his cock over Dean’s belly.

Once, twice, three times, and he’s coming with a bitten-off cry as stars dance behind his eyes.

His heart hammers in his ears but the looks of pure wonder that makes Dean’s eyes wide and soft erases all sound from his perception. He can see only Dean, feel only Dean, as his orgasm pulses through him in waves that are almost too intense to endure.

His mess is added to Dean’s, wet, sticky, and enticing across Dean’s abs and pooling in his belly button. He can’t remember coming so forcefully, ever, and the debauched sight of Dean below him is enough to make his cock valiantly try for more.

Minutes may have passed before he’s finally spent, there is no way to tell and he can’t bring himself to care.

Not with Dean holding onto him like a lifeline.

“That was,” Dean starts to say but shakes his head with a lazy smile. He drags his fingers through their cooling come with a look of awe and Cas can’t help the delighted little skip the caveman part of his brain does at the sight.

He drops forward to kiss Dean, deeply and completely before rolling to the side and laying next to him, still breathing heavily.

Just like that, the real-world rushes back in, and a chill creeps over him. From his bare feet to the tips of his ears, panic begins to gnaw at his insides. “I’ll get you a towel,” he says, needing to move, needing to do something to keep himself from looking into Dean’s sated eyes and feeling entirely too much for the man who is little more than a stranger to him.

Except, that isn’t right.

Dean knows his secrets and still chose to be with him. To have this.

He swallows hard when Dean’s fingers circle his wrist and tug him back. “Shower with me instead,” Dean asks, tone soft yet his voice is rougher than Cas has heard it before. “Shower then sleep.”

Cas turns to him sharply with wide eyes and parted lips. “You want me to stay?”

Dean pushes himself onto his elbows with a pinched frown. “Yeah, I mean, if you want?”

Silence clicks where his thoughts should be and he can’t help the blank stare that he captures Dean with. Dean wants him to stay? All night? He licks his suddenly too dry lips and Dean shifts his gaze, cheeks reddening. “Okay,” Cas manages to choke out with a disbelieving nod.

“Yeah?” Dean’s attention snaps to him and a hesitant smile creeps over his face and hope lights his eyes.

The bands of tension loosen over Castiel’s chest and he nods, a genuine smile growing as he pushes to his feet and holds out his hand for Dean to take. “I’d love to.”


	10. The day that enough is enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas finds a new sense of determination when Dean shows him that he can have something good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday! I hope you enjoy this little chapter, it might be a couple of weeks before I'll be able to post again depending on my schedule. Life is just getting in the way quite a bit lately.

Cas wakes slowly, groggily aware of the cool air against his shoulders and a warmth against his chest that he can’t quite place. His mind starts to churn and his fingers flex, feeling firm skin under his hands and he settles deeper into what his sleep-addled brain is certain must be a dream.

Nothing matters right now. Not the unfamiliar softness below him that isn’t digging into his hip like it should, not the figment of his imagination pressed against his chest, or the distant mechanical hum that threatens to tear him from this blissful space between sleep and wakefulness.

Even the sun streaming in at just the right angle to strike his brow and warm his face doesn’t matter.

As far as dreams go, this one wonderful. Holding on just a little bit longer is the best idea he’s had in ages.

He snuggles in closer to the warmth at his front with a satisfied hum and he tucks his chin until something soft tickles his nose. He breathes out with a huff and wrinkles his brow, burrowing closer with determination.

The faint whiff of spice that drifts into his nostrils isn’t right and he rolls onto his back before peeling one eye open a fraction, blinking against the sun that is coming from the wrong direction.

The comfort molded to his body below him is wrong too. There is no spring jabbing his hip and his head is surrounded by unfamiliar fluff rather than his flat pillow.

He blinks, brow furrowed as he turns his head to puzzle out his strange surroundings.

The other man turns and hazy green eyes blink over at him.

_Dean_.

Last night comes back to him in a rush and his heart begins to race.

He’s in Dean’s bed. They had sex. They talked about _dating._ One thing after another is quickly added to the laundry list of mistakes he’s made as panic begins to set in.

“Cas?” Dean’s sleep rough voice questions softly and light fingertips brush over his forearm where its draped over his middle. He scoots closer, molding himself around Cas and burying his nose in the junction of his shoulder.

Just like that, all his worries dissipate in the course of one heaving breath.

He’s in Dean’s bed because Dean wants him here. Because _he_ wants to be here.

Cas nuzzles against Dean’s brow before pressing a chaste kiss where his hair ends and smiles. “Good morning, Dean.”

Dean tightens his hold around Cas’ middle and he can’t help but feel like his world is being reborn. This moment, right here, feels so right and pure that his life can’t possibly be anything more than one giant bad memory, right? He breathes in the scent of Dean’s shampoo and lets his hand drift over Dean’s shoulder, thumb lightly stroking the lines of strong muscle and the softness brought on by the man’s love of pie and burgers.

A loud crack sounds below them and Cas jolts away in surprise, once again certain that this is a dream and he’s about to be ripped from it.

“Oh, shit!” Dean exclaims, flying away and out of bed just as someone begins pounding on the door of his apartment. “What time is it?”

Cas sits up, blinking at the sudden brightness now that Dean isn’t there to shield his face. He watches Dean scurry around the room, too stunned to move.

This isn’t a dream. He is nowhere near clever enough to imagine the noisy disturbance at the door or Dean’s sudden hurry to dress.

“You can stay, sleep a little longer if you want…” Dean gives him a pitiful look at he hops on one foot, trying to tug on a pair of jeans. “I’m coming!” He shouts, aiming his voice at the incessant pounding on the door.

Cas’ brow furrows and his head tilts of its own volition. “What’s going on?”

“Its Bobby. I was supposed to be downstairs an hour ago,” Dean hurries to explain as he pulls a grease-stained t-shirt over his head.

Cas’ head tilts further as his mind slowly comes online. Work. Dean is talking about work. He drags himself from the bed and finds his jeans from last night as Dean rushes into the bathroom.

The pounding on the door still doesn’t stop. “You better be dying!” A gruff voice comes from the other side and Cas swallows hard as he stares. “Dean! Open up, ya idgit!”

Cas quickly crosses the space, glancing around Dean’s sparse living room. The few pictures he sees are repeats of two growing boys together at various ages, along with one of a toddler with a pretty blond woman that Cas guesses must be Dean and his mom. The water is running in the bathroom but the pounding on the door continues so Cas takes a deep breath and twists the lock.

No sooner is the deadbolt undone than the door is being shoved open from the other side.

“Where the hell you been…. Who the hell are you?” A man with a scrubby beard and worn trucker cap glares at Cas just as Dean barrels out of the bathroom.

“Bobby,” Dean says, eyes wide as he looks between Cas and the newcomer.

“My name is Castiel,” Cas says cautiously as he takes a step closer to Dean. Maybe opening the door was a mistake. If looks could kill, he’d be dead where he stands. As much as Dean has told him about how wonderful Bobby is, the man before him has his throat going dry and his heart pattering wildly.

“Castiel?” Bobby arches a critical brow, his rough voice dripping with ire. His brown eyes bore so deeply into Cas as his gaze rakes over him that Cas is certain that all his secrets are exposed to be judged and he wants little more than to hide behind Dean.

He won’t though. He refuses to hide.

Cas shifts uncomfortably where he stands at Dean’s side, at a loss for words but his well-practiced smile comes instinctually and almost turns genuine when Dean’s warm hand settles low on his back. “Nice to meet you,” Cas says with a dip of his chin, pretending his stomach isn’t threatening revolt.

Bobby tracks Dean’s motion with an ever-growing scowl before turning his glare to Dean. “What the hell you doin, boy?”

“Bobby, I’m sorry I’m late. Cas came over last night and I forgot to set an alarm…” Dean hurries to explain as he takes Cas’s hand gently.

“Wait, Cas? This is Cas? Castiel.” Bobby scrubs a hand over his beard and nods with a grimace. “This that boy you been pining over for weeks now?” Bobby grumbles and Castiel feels his cheeks heat as he takes a step back to hide behind Dean.

Maybe hiding does have some merits.

Just this once.

Dean nods and his grip tightens around Cas’s hand, refusing to let him disappear. “Cas, this my Uncle Bobby. Bobby, this Cas.”

“Hello,” Cas manages to squeak again, even as his heart threatens to escape through his throat. His stomach churns as he forces himself to hold his chin high and meet Bobby’s gaze.

Bobby stares, narrowing his eyes until Cas is ready to squirm. When he steps forward, it takes everything Cas has to keep his feet planted and his chin up. “Castiel, huh? Well, it’s nice to finally meet you. Thought this one was never gonna shut up about you,” Bobby says, lips twitching into something resembling a smile as he points his thumb at Dean before holding out a hand for Cas to shake.

Castiel flinches a smile, unease still coiling in his stomach but at least his heart is staying where it belongs. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.” He holds his hand out and Bobby wastes no time giving it a firm shake with his calloused palm.

Bobby scowls. “None of that sir crap, I ain’t my father.” He flinches another smile before turning an arched brow to Dean. “I expect you downstairs after lunch. Make sure you feed this boy of yours some breakfast.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean quips with a grin to match Bobby’s scowl as the man backs out the door and leaves them alone.

They don’t say a word as Bobby’s heavy boots clomp down the stairs, Cas can barely manage to keep himself on his feet as his knees wobble.

Finally, Dean tugs him into a hug and holds him close. “I’m sorry about that,” Dean mutters, his warm breath tickling his throat as the man tightens his grip. “He was probably worried I did something stupid.”

Cas carefully wraps his arms around Dean’s back and breathes his scent in deeply. “Like pick up a hooker?” He tries to joke but he can tell by the way Dean’s arms tighten around him that it fell flat.

“I didn’t expect to introduce you to the family so soon,” Dean says softly and something in his voice makes Cas’s chest twinge.

He pulls back, searching Dean’s expression for the source of the odd sense of foreboding beginning to flutter through his veins and make his gut feel heavy. “Are you ashamed of me?” He asks, the question leaving his mouth before the logical side of his brain can stop it.

He wouldn’t be upset if Dean was, there is a lot of him to be ashamed of. Even so, that doesn’t mean he’s okay with being someone’s dirty little secret. His head may be a mess but he still has his self-respect. His chest aches as it tightens, demanding he finish getting dressed and go.

The only thing that stops him is Dean’s hands holding his.

Dean shakes his head furiously, eyes blown wide and panicked. “No! That isn’t it at all. I care about _you_ , Cas and I’d be damn happy to call you mine in front of everybody.”

Cas’s lip twitches. He suspected shame wasn’t part of the problem but that horrid little voice in the back of his mind refuses to let the idea go. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were. I’m a whore with no family, I don’t even have proper identification to get a real job.”

“Cas,” Dean whispers, stepping closer to brush his thumb over the arch of Castiel’s cheek. “I want you to be my boyfriend. How’s that for ashamed?”

Cas gapes but he can’t help the smile overtaking his startled expression. Meg has beaten down his reasons for not dating, and Dean has proven himself irresistible. Maybe, just this once, he can have what he wants. He doesn’t want to try holding himself back anymore. “I would like that.”

“Yeah?” Dean grins.

Cas nods, pinching back his smile. “Yes.”

Dean laughs brightly and full of teeth as he sweeps Cas into his arms and spins them around. “Fucking finally.”

Cas pushes him back with a breathy laugh and shakes his head. “Bobby said something about feeding me breakfast?” He needs the conversation to shift before the prickling in his eyes turning into full-blown tears.

He can still scarcely believe that he’s standing in Dean’s apartment. His resolve has been obliterated and he never imagined it would feel so _good_ to let go, to let himself have something wholesome and normal.

“Speaking of, I need you to understand…the only reason I wasn’t planning on introducing you so soon is because I literally came out to them right after we met. Apparently, they already knew but _I’m_ still getting used to the idea. S’got nothin to do with you,” Dean explains, his voice wavering as he cringes.

Cas blinks with a pinched frown and takes a half step back. “And they’re okay with you liking men? I don’t want to come between you and…” Cas starts, shaking his head before Dean cuts him off, crowding him against the wall with his fingers wrapped around Castiel’s hipbones.

“Bobby gave me a half-day off and ordered me to feed you. Does that sound like he has a problem?” Dean whispers in Cas’ ear, hands drifting over his ass to haul him closer as a shiver races down Castiel’s spine.

“Valid point,” Cas says with a hard swallow just as Dean leans forward to capture his lips. Kissing Dean is like the first warm rays of sun in spring when the world feels fresh and saturated with hope. Castiel can’t help the wanton moan that escapes him as his hands travel up Dean’s back to cup his jaw, holding him close.

Their kiss stays soft and sweet, giving fuel to the bubble of comfort swelling inside Cas’s chest despite his lingering unease. Their lips move together, gentle and unhurried as the tension bleeds from Castiel’s body bit by bit until only Dean’s hold on his hips and the wall at his back are keeping him upright.

Finally, Dean pulls back with adoration gleaming in his eyes. “So, breakfast?” He grins, kissing the tip of Castiel’s nose with an exaggerated _mauh_ that makes him chuckle.

“Sure.” Cas agrees and allows Dean to pull him away from the wall and into the kitchen.

“I’m running a little low on groceries, but I think I have everything to make bacon and pancakes. That sound okay?” Dean talks as he pulls open his refrigerator and starts digging around inside, but Cas is too busy staring at his boyfriend’s ass to listen to a word he’s saying. Dean rambles on, pulling things out and setting them on the counter next to the fridge, but Cas is lost in the vision before him, helpless to stop the disbelieving grin that’s spreading over his face.

“Cas?” Dean comes up for air, turning to him with a cockeyed smile. “Bacon?”

Cas shakes his head and scrubs his hand over his scruff. “Sorry,” he quickly says. “Bacon sounds fine.” He hasn’t had bacon in ages, at least not the good quality, thick-cut bacon currently sitting on the countertop. Suddenly, a wide yawn overtakes him and he covers his mouth his hand as he turns away.

A glance at the microwave tells him that it’s barely past eight am. An hour he hasn’t been awake for willingly in a very long time. No wonder he feels like he’s been trudging through sand now that the shock of their wake-up call has worn off.

Dean hums with a nod. “How about some coffee?”

Cas’s eyes brighten and he nods eagerly. “Coffee would be lovely.”

Dean grins and gestures toward the small dinette table just outside the kitchen. “Take a seat.”

Cas tilts his head and steps toward Dean. “I can help,” he says, already eyeing the electric stove assessingly.

Dean shakes his head as he steps into Castiel’s space and rests his big hands low on his hips. “Let me pamper you a little,” Dean whispers before pressing a chaste kiss to Castiel’s brow and spinning him toward the table.

“I don’t need…” Castiel resists, craning his neck to look at Dean even as he’s guided out of the kitchen with a gentle hand at the small of his back. Dean’s presence is warm behind him and Cas can’t help the way his heart hiccups happily when he’s pulled back against Dean’s chest and held close.

Dean’s nose brushes the shell of his ear before peppering light kisses along his jaw. “I know you Don’t need it, but I want to spoil you anyway.”

Cas sighs and sags against Dean, melting into his arms with a soft smile before nodding his acquiescence. “Okay.”

“Good.” Dean places a resounding kiss to his cheek and nudges him toward the table. “Now, sit.”

His smile broadens as he settles at the table and turns his chair to watch Dean move about his small kitchen with practiced ease. His muscled shoulders shift underneath his thin shirt and Cas bites his lip as he leans forward to rest his elbows on the table.

Dean hums as he works, painting a picture of domesticity rarely seen outside of the cheesy romance movies that Meg pretends to hate. He can’t remember the last time he felt so relaxed in a space, so at peace. For the moment, his problems can drain away and he can simply _be_. Watching Dean measure flour, sugar, and whatever else he needs to make pancakes is quite possibly the highlight of his year.

At least that’s what he thinks until Dean flashes him a bright smile and brings him a perfectly sugar-filled cup of coffee… _that_ becomes the highlight of the year.

Soon, the scents of freshly baked sugar and salty bacon fills the air while Dean hums some old Led Zeppelin song that Cas almost recognizes.

He has to pinch his arm to prove that he isn’t dreaming.

“Hey, you awake over there?” Dean’s voice calls to him, making him blink away his reverie to see a hand waving in front of his face.

“Huh?” He scrubs his hand over his face and looks up into those bright green eyes, crinkled at the corners with Dean’s fond smile. “Sorry.”

Dean chuckles and slides a plate in front of him, piled high with fluffy pancakes and several strips of bacon on the side. “Butter and syrup?” Dean asks with a raised brow and waits for Cas to nod before turning toward the counter to collect his own plate.

“I haven’t had pancakes in ages,” Cas admits as he reaches for the plate of soft butter and slathers it on each pancake in the stack. “These look wonderful.” He looks up in time to see Dean duck his chin with a shy smile.

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean meets his eyes as Cas shoves the butter toward him. “Can I ask you something?”

Cas quirks a brow with a smirk. “You just did.”

“Yeah, yeah, smartass.” Dean shakes his head as he works his way through the stack of pancakes, leaving a visible layer of butter on each one. “I wanted to ask you a couple of things about your work…” Dean gives him an awkward smile that nearly doubles as a grimace.

Cas’s stomach isn’t convinced he can eat and talk to Dean about that at the same time. He wrinkles his nose at the amount of butter Dean is using and buries his hands between his knees to hide the nervous tremble filtering through his blood. “I, uh, okay?”

“You don’t have to answer, I just… it’s something Meg said but I want to hear it from you, about what you want.” Dean stammers and drowns his pancakes in sticky amber syrup. Real maple by the scent of it and Cas can’t help but be a little impressed.

Real butter and real maple syrup. Although, he isn’t sure why he expected anything less from someone so passionate about eating.

“Go on.” Cas gestures for Dean to continue, the nervous flutter in his stomach might as well take up permanent residence at the rate he’s going.

Dean sucks in a deep breath as Castiel’s hopes sink further into the abyss.

This is it. This is where Dean tells him that he’s isn’t okay with what Castiel does and demands he quit.

“I know you know I’d be lying if I said I was okay with you being a prostitute,” Dean nearly chokes on the word and the scowl that accompanies it. “But I will respect your wishes.”

Cas frowns at his plate, trying to decide if he should let his frustration explode or swallow it down. He remembers what Dean said last night, he _knows_ that Dean would be strange if he didn’t mind, but knowing that does little to quell the bitter taste in his mouth and somersaults his stomach is attempting.

“What do _you_ want, Cas? I know Meg wants you out of that life, so do I. But I wanna know what you want.” Dean rests his hands flat on the table, food sitting ignored while he waits for Castiel to answer.

Cas’s eyes slide closed and he pulls in a deep breath through his nose. “I don’t know how else to make money,” he says with a frown, refusing to open his eyes to see the disappointment surely etched in Dean’s features.

Nonetheless, his eyes startle open when his hand is engulfed in warmth and he meets Dean’s eyes with no small amount of hesitation.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Dean says gently and Cas pulls back, tucking his hands into his lap.

“What I want doesn’t matter when I don’t have a choice.” Castiel frowns, his appetite long gone.

Dean pinches a frown but nods. “Will you let me and Meg help you find a choice?” He asks, voice small and careful as if speaking to a wounded animal.

Castiel hates that tone. That pitying offer of help. Dean will give up when he sees how hopeless Cas is, how many hurdles he’d have to jump through to get anywhere with him. Yet, when he blinks the bleariness from his vision and meets Dean’s gaze, prepared to tell him no, he doesn’t see pity.

Dean’s green eyes are soft, shy even, and yet the determination in the set of his jaw speaks volumes.

Would it be so bad to hope that Dean won’t give up on him?

Maybe. Probably.

Cas nods before he can stop himself. Something about Dean makes Castiel want to try, want to hope for something better.

“Okay,” Cas says, swallowing hard.

If he’s ever going to have a better life, he needs to take a chance.

Somehow, with Dean by his side, it doesn’t seem quite as scary.

\--- Several hours later ---

This is of no use. Castiel shakes his head as he stares down at his long-expired state ID.

From before he was twenty-one.

“Call your brother,” Meg gripes at him, gaze boring into him from across the room. “Call your brother ask him to get your social security card and crap from your family.”

Cas sighs and digs his fingers in his hair, tugging the unruly strands. “I can’t.”

He can’t call Gabriel. He doesn’t even know the man’s phone number anymore. As far as Gabe knows, Castiel is dead.

“Clarence, sweetie,” Meg coos from where she lies sprawled on the dirty cushions. Her hand covers her stomach and her narrowed eyed focus on him does a poor job of covering the pain lurking in her gaze. “I want you out of this life. _Dean_ wants you out of this life. _You_ want you out of this life.” Her words cut off as a wracking cough explodes from her chest.

Cas bolts from his chair, nearly knocking it over with a clatter in his haste to get to her side. “Come on, you’re okay,” he comforts as he helps her into a sitting position and leans her forward.

Blindly, he hands her a tissue that she clasps to her mouth before rubbing soothing circles between her shoulder blades as the wet coughs make her tremble and struggle for breath. The sour feeling in his stomach only grows worse alongside her condition with the need to help, to _do_ something.

There’s nothing he can do.

She needs more help than he can give.

“If calling your brother means getting proper ID so you can get a real job, then you should,” she rasps through the final coughs of her fit and she drops back against the couch, exhausted.

“Is that…” Cas trails off, gaze fixated on the white tissue clutched in her hand, now mottled with bright spots of red.

Meg nods. “S’been getting worse.” She winces as she shifts, trying to get comfortable.

“You need a hospital.” Cas helps settle her and hands over a glass of water.

She shakes her head with a huff. “So they can what? Stick me with a bunch of needles and send me home saying there’s nothing they can do? No, thank you.” She takes a sip of the lukewarm water, anything colder upsets her stomach. “I’d rather die in peace.”

She’s right and he knows it. Without insurance, or hell, even with insurance, there isn’t much a hospital can do at this point. A year ago, the doctor at the clinic told them eight months, best case scenario.

“There has to be something I can do for you,” Cas says even though he knows there really isn’t. He’s been working as hard as he can to earn enough to support them and he’s reached his wit's end.

He can’t take much more of this.

Meg brushes his hair out of his eyes with a wry smile. “I wanna see you go legit, get a real job with an actual paycheck and taxes and all that government shit.”

Cas lets out a heavy sigh and flops next to her. He has no idea how to accomplish what she’s asking. Every job he’s looked at asks for a social security number at the bare minimum. He has one.

Somewhere.

He just doesn’t know what it is and he lacks the proper documentation to get a copy.

“Call your brother,” Meg says again, dropping her frail hand to his knee. She’s gotten too thin, seemingly overnight.

When Dean had dropped him off after breakfast, Cas walked through the door and stopped dead in his tracks when he took in Meg’s slumped form, aimlessly stirring milk around her cereal bowl without actually eating anything.

He can’t believe how blind he’s been, how self-absorbed must he be to not have noticed how sick Meg has gotten.

An annoyed huff escapes him and he shakes his head. “I don’t have his number.”

“Then go to the library and try to look him up!” Meg exclaims, patience clearly dissipating faster than her health. She fixes him with the sternest glare she can muster, her brown eyes startlingly huge against her sunken cheeks and pallid complexion.

Cas sucks in a deep breath and closes his eyes before shaking his head. “Fine,” he breathes, the word harsh and bitter as it passes his lips. “It’ll have to wait until Sunday.” When he was supposed to spend time with Dean.

Meg nods and squeezes his knee. “That’s all I ask.”

_Right._ As if getting in touch with his estranged family isn’t anything at all.

“I need to get ready for work,” Cas says darkly as he pushes up from the couch and trudges to his room to glare at his closet.

A few weeks ago, he was resigned to selling himself for the foreseeable future. Now, with Meg’s pestering and Dean’s earnest offer of help, the thought of spending every night standing in that alley eats away just a little bit more of his soul. He’d much rather work his fingers to the bone during the day and be able to crawl into bed next to Dean at night.

He’d rather be someone his brother wouldn’t be ashamed of.

He’d rather have Meg healthy and not have to worry about what happens next.

He’d rather do so many things and yet every single one of them seems just out of his reach. Shit. He digs his fingers into his hair and pulls with a frustrated groan and clenched eyes.

Meg has barely been able to work lately and their funds are running dangerously short. He had hoped he would be able to make ends meet just a little bit easier, but she’s been home only a week and he’s already ready to tear his hair out trying to figure out how to make sure their bills are paid.

If he doesn’t make at least $200 tonight, he’s not going to be able to pay rent on time.

He has to do this.

With his chin forced higher, he takes a deep breath and nods to himself. He can do this just a little bit longer. Until he can find something else that pays halfway decently.

He shoves himself into the first pair of jeans he grabs and a clean shirt, not bothering with his usual shower or preparations. Deep inside, he knows he’s going to regret that later, but he can’t be bothered to care.

Not with Meg’s health and his own future on his mind.

Five minutes later, he’s calling goodbye to Meg and shoving himself out the door and onto the street. He clomps his way down the sidewalk with his hands thrust into the pockets of the jacket he snagged before he left.

The weather is a little warm for the tattered leather, but it’s comfortable and he can trick himself into feeling invisible when he hunches his shoulders and hurries onward.

Missy waving from the window of the coffee shop gives him pause and he smiles reflexively when he sees her bright smile and plastic cup being waved in his direction.

The joyful bell over the door tinkles when he pushes through and Missy bounces to a stop in front of him. “Hey, Miss.” He smiles. “You seem excited?”

She grins and flexes her feet, pushing onto her tiptoes before dropping back and repeating the motion with an eager nod. “I aced all my classes.” Her grin turns blinding and Cas can’t help the happy chuckle that escapes him.

“That’s wonderful!” He agrees, opening his arms slightly before remembering himself.

It’s no matter though, Missy quickly takes the offering and launches herself at him. The frozen concoction she’s holding barely escapes being squished as she laughs and squeezes him breathless.

Castiel can’t help but laugh at her exuberance as he hugs her back. The simple contact feels good. Different than hugging Dean or Meg, more innocent somehow. Missy is untainted, pure and bright, a girl with a full life ahead of her.

Her happiness is infectious and Cas holds on tight until she starts to pull away, propriety be damned.

Missy clears her throat and smooths the invisible wrinkles from her apron before handing him the cup of frozen coffee. “Sorry, I uh, just saw the email a few minutes ago. Got kinda excited,” she waves her hand dismissively before gesturing to the cup in his hand. “I hope you don’t mind blended drinks, you’ve never ordered anything but hot coffee…”

Cas smiles and takes a hurried sip. “Delicious. Tastes like chocolate and…” he trails off as his eyes narrow in thought. Something familiar yet distant is right on the tip of his tongue. “Summertime.” He settles on, shaking his head when he can’t place the other flavor hidden beneath the espresso and cocoa.

“Peanut butter and marshmallow syrup,” Missy says with a wide grin. “My favorite take on S’mores.”

Cas takes another long sip and hums his satisfaction. “This is very good. Thank you.”

Missy grins and punches his arm playfully. “So, you heard my news. You got anything good going on?” She looks at him expectantly and he can’t help the slow grin that creeps over his lips around the straw in his mouth.

He nods and swallows hard. “I do, actually.” His stomach does a happy little swoop when his thoughts turn to Dean. “You remember that guy from a few weeks ago?”

“The green-eyed sex on legs guy?” Missy’s smile nearly makes her eyes glow. “You two finally hook up?”

Cas ducks his chin, feeling his cheeks heat as he chews his lip. “A little more than that. We’re dating now.”

His heart jumps when Missy lets out a high-pitched squeal and crushes him in another hug. “I knew it!” She cheers, jumping up and down with delight. “You two are totally hot together.”

Cas’s cheeks are nearly on fire as he shakes his head in the face of her obvious excitement. “Dean is very sweet.”

“I’m sure he is.” Missy grins knowingly. “I expect you to keep me updated. Maybe bring him back here sometime.” She arches a brow and points at his chest.

Cas nods shyly but the mix of pleasure and pride swirling in his gut remains. He’s sure Dean wouldn’t mind coming back here sometime and the idea of showing him off is very appealing too. “I should get going,” he says, noticing the clock on the wall is slowly ticking past the time he normally gets to his spot. “But I’ll bring Dean by sometime, I promise.” He lifts his drink toward her in salute. “Congratulations on your classes.”

“Thanks, Cas!” Missy says with a warm smile as he turns toward the door. “Have a good night!”

He waves one more time without turning around and continues his walk, his mood brighter now than it has been since Dean dropped him off. At times, Missy can be a little too exuberant, but her insufferable cheer was exactly what he needed.

Cas finds his spot empty as usual and he slips into character effortlessly, shedding himself like a second skin so that his plastered-on smile belongs to the carefree Steve instead of the troubled Castiel.

Sometimes, it’s easier to be someone else.

Soon enough, a car pulls up and Cas gets to work, sauntering toward the driver’s side window with practiced grace and a flirty smile to greet his first customer of the night.

Later, when his knees are scuffed and his throat aches, his mind struggles to separate from the task at hand. He sucks and slurps, hums and rocks, doing everything he needs to do, but his nose wrinkles each time it’s brushed by scratchy zipper teeth and he fights against his reinvigorated gag reflex.

When the john in front of him finally comes, Cas is left with a hollow feeling in his gut despite the cash padding his pocket and the awkward thanks thrown at him as the man hurries away to his wife.

He drops back on his feels with a groan and takes a swig of his bottled water, swishing it around before spitting the foul taste of latex from his mouth with a grimace.

“I need to find Gabriel,” he mutters to himself, voice full dejection as he ruefully climbs to his feet. The hour is far too early to turn in for the night, but his heart is done with this. Damn Meg for putting ideas in his head, they’ve latched on and grown into an undeniable need.

He can’t keep doing this. Even if that means tracking down his brother and begging him to get his documentation from their mother. Even if that means confessing his sins to the only family who might still care about him.

This is his one precious life, and he needs to make it better.


	11. The Day for Meeting the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg is Meg, and Dean...well, he hasn't quite figured out how to handle her. That's okay though, she has a plan and Dean sees no reason not to play along. Not when it buys him two whole days to spend with Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Or, at least poking my head up to breathe. I apologize for the long wait, and for the wait that is likely to come after this chapter. I was heading in the wrong direction with this chapter and I was stuck for so long, it didn't feel right. So, I finally scrapped half of what I had written and took a different route to get this thing pointed in the right direction.
> 
> This is the beginning of the end though, I anticipate 2-3 chapters maximum after this one and they're going to be intense.

“Meg?” Dean grumbles into the phone, slitting one eye open to glare at his clock. The silence on the other end of the line is foreboding and he elbows his way to sitting. With sheets pooled around his waist, he swings his legs over the side of the bed and turns on his lamp when Meg’s wracking coughs come over the line.

“Sorry, Dean-o,” she eventually rasps with a groan. “We gotta talk.”

Dean’s heart immediately jumps to conclusions and his lungs refuse to admit air until he knows. “Is Cas alright?” He slides out of the bed, already hunting for some clothes to throw on despite it being almost two in the morning.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s fine. Well, you know,” Meg says again with a phlegmy cough. “I was just wondering if you wouldn’t mind helping me out a bit.”

Dean’s shoulders slump with the air escaping his chest and he nods. “Okay…” he drops onto the bed with trepidation.

“I need you to talk Cas into staying with you over the weekend. Saturday and Sunday night,” Meg says without hesitation. “He’s going to need some extra support and I just, I don’t want him to be alone.”

Dean shifts on the mattress and his brows furrow. “What are you talking about?” There’s something in her tone that he doesn’t like, doesn’t trust, but he doesn’t know her enough to ask too many questions. “What’s going on?”

Meg sighs, leaving drawn-out silence between them. “I’m tired, Dean. Tired of fighting. I just need some time to myself.”

“You and Cas have been fighting?” Dean questions as his brows scrunch further. Cas hadn’t mentioned anything about them fighting. Only that Meg has been getting sicker and weaker at a rate that scared him. When they had dinner on Sunday, Cas was quiet but Dean could see the sadness in the slump of his shoulders and the dark circles around his eyes.

Meg wheezes and coughs again. “No. We’re, we’re good. It’s just…”

“Meg, what aren’t you telling me?” Dean asks, patience wearing thin now that he’s wide awake.

A long sigh comes over the line and Dean closes his eyes and fights against the lump of dread in his throat. “I’m trusting you here, Dean. Promise me you’ll keep him busy this weekend.”

“I,” Dean starts but shakes his head. “Doesn’t he work Saturday nights?”

Meg huffs, the sound weaker than Dean remembers. “Don’t worry about that. Just promise me you’ll keep him away.”

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine, sure. I’ll talk to him.”

“Thank you,” Meg says before launching into another coughing fit.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks stupidly as his grip tightens on the phone.

“Just peachy,” Meg chokes out. “Now be a good little boy and take care of Castiel. He’s going to need you.”

She hangs up before Dean can manage another word and he’s left sitting on the edge of the bed with confusion swirling in his sleep-addled brain. With a wide yawn, he shrugs and shimmies back into the inviting warmth of his bed and closes his eyes.

He’ll worry about trying to figure Meg out later. When he’s more awake.

_Yep_ , he thinks to himself during a wide yawn.

In the morning.

By the time Cas calls to wake him up and he has that delicious gravelly voice in his ear, Dean forgets all about the strangeness of his late-night call with Meg in favor of begging Cas to stay with him this weekend. Because, really, that is the best idea anyone has had in ages.

Castiel takes some convincing, but Dean uses every trick he knows to eventually get the okay he’s searching for.

It’s only after they hang up and Dean is trudging down the steps to the garage that he realizes one very important thing about having Cas stay the weekend.

Family dinner.

With Sam and Jess.

He swallows hard against the butterflies swarming in his gut by the time he hits the bottom step and turns his feet toward Bobby’s office.

He can already hear his Uncle clunking around in there, probably ready to take a crowbar to the printer again.

“Hey, Bobby, got a question for ya,” Dean pokes his head in the door, ready to duck just in case it’s one of _those_ mornings.

“Make it quick, boy,” Bobby grumbles, sure enough, he’s crouching in front of the miserable excuse of an office printer. Thankfully, no tools are in sight.

Dean takes a deep breath to steady his nerves before opening his mouth. He might as well get this over with now. “I, uh, got a plus one for family dinner. Is it cool if I bring Cas?”

Bobby rolls his eyes but a smile twitches at the corner of his lips, barely visible through his beard. “Of course it is, ya idjit. Now get to work!”

\---

Saturday afternoon comes with the speed of molasses in wintertime, but eventually, Dean finds himself trudging up the stairs to Castiel’s apartment and lifting his hand to knock.

He doesn’t get the chance.

The door opens and he’s dragged inside before he can register what’s happening.

“Whoa, whoa, easy,” he immediately reaches out when Meg sways, barely keeping her upright. “You should be in bed.” He looks her up and down, noting how sunken and pale her cheeks have become and how bony her elbow is in his hand.

“He’s in the shower, I wanted to talk to you,” Meg says in a rushed whisper as he guides her toward the couch.

Dean pinches a frown but nods. “Well, you got me. What’s up?”

Meg sucks in a shaky breath and lets out a small cough as she nods. “Has he told you about Gabriel?”

Dean licks his lips and nods. Yeah, Cas has told him about his older brother. He’s been helping Cas search.

“I found him.” Meg breathes in through her nose and leans against the back of the couch.

“Yeah?” Dean’s eyes widen and he glances toward the closed bathroom door. “Why are you telling me this?” She should be telling Cas.

“It’s why I want you to keep him occupied for a couple days,” Meg says as she shoves a folded piece of paper into his hand. “I know him too well to give this to him. He’ll stare at it for a month before he throws it away.”

“But he said,” Dean starts to say but Meg cuts him off with a shake of her head.

“I know what he said. Just trust me, okay.” Meg puts her hand over his with a careful smile that looks more like a grimace.

Dean gapes, mouth painfully dry as he tries to swallow around the lump in his throat that may very well be his heart. He knows Cas has been looking, he asked Dean to take him to the library on Sunday so he could use a computer.

Dean would have offered his if he had one.

“Dean? You’re here already?” The bathroom door opens and Cas steps out wearing nothing more than a too-small towel around his waist and Dean turns to him with wide eyes as his stomach lurches with sudden panic.

“Cas,” Dean croaks, unable to tear his eyes away from Castiel’s bare chest.

“Ooh, I didn’t know I was gonna get a show.” Meg slumps backward with a smirk as if they weren’t just talking about her going behind Castiel’s back.

Cas’s eyes immediately narrow and he cinches his towel tighter against his waist. “What are you up to?” Cas stares at Meg and his nose wrinkles adorably.

If Dean weren’t frozen in place like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he’d be up and across the room to kiss Cas silly.

As it is, his gaze is immediately drawn to the sliver of exposed hip and the tempting strip of damp skin leading to his thigh.

Swallowing hard, Dean closes his eyes to clear his thoughts before plastering on a hopeful smile. “Yeah, Meg was just telling me that she… ow!” Dean turns a glare on Meg and rubs his chest where she smacked him. “What was that for?!”

Meg grins, any vulnerability she had been showing is well hidden behind her devious smirk and bubble of laughter. “I’m just keeping your boy toy entertained while you get ready, Clarence,” Meg says cheerily, clearing her throat with a suppressed cough.

“Uh-huh…” Cas arches a skeptical brow as he stares down his friend.

Meg’s smile grows.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Dean?” Cas looks to him with true concern etched in his features and Dean finds him absolutely _adorable_ and cannot resist pushing to his feet before he goes and says something stupid.

He crosses the space automatically and reels Cas in by his sinfully sharp hips as he presses their lips together to kiss his boyfriend into distraction. Their lips move together fluidly with Castiel’s hands pressing into the small of his back to keep him close.

Dean almost forgets they have an audience until Meg lets out a low whistle of approval. Dean pulls back quickly with an awkward chuckle. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

Cas still looks skeptical when he glances at Meg. “Okay...” Cas shakes his head as he takes a step backward. “I’m just going to get dressed, it won’t take long, I promise.”

Dean shakes his head with a soft smile. “Take your time. I don’t _think_ Meg is going to torture me. Much.”

“Unless you’re into that sort of thing,” Meg adds with a devilish smirk that has Cas’s eyes widening comically. “So, Dean-o, what’ll it be? The rack or Clarence’s humbler?” Meg throws her arm around Dean’s lower back and leads him back to the couch while Cas sputters indignantly.

“A humble-what?” Dean asks, clueless and confused. Meg is speaking nonsense and the way her words curl in the air with sharpened edges as they fall make something cautious twitch low in Dean’s belly.

“It’s nothing. Meg doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Cas says, drawing out her name with a glare as she cackles at Dean’s confusion.

Her laughter quickly turns into a wracking cough that leaves her wheezing as Dean helps her onto the couch with Cas appearing at her other side.

“Hold on, let me get you a glass of water,” Cas says urgently as he fixes Dean with a pointed look and takes off for the kitchen.

Dean’s confusion has been quickly replaced by concern as he rubs soothing circles between Meg’s bony shoulders. Each vertebra is sharp under his palm and his heart sinks deeper the longer her lungs rattle.

“Tissue,” Meg rasps, gesturing vaguely toward the box of dollar store kleenex at the end of the couch.

Dean quickly leans forward to grab it and tugs two thin tissues from the flimsy box to hand them over without a second thought just as Cas returns with the water.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself?” Cas questions, hovering uselessly as Meg wipes the blood from her lips and sips on the water.

Dean stares at the patch of crimson against the white paper with dread. He may not be a smart man, but he knows that coughing up blood is a very bad thing.

Meg swats them both away and drops backward with a huff. “I’ll be fine. Go enjoy yourself.”

“Are you sure?” Cas wrings his hands as she sips the water. The towel around his waist hangs dangerously low but Castiel seems oblivious to the fact that the swell of his ass and the bulge of his dick are likely the only things holding it up.

As concerned as he is about Meg, the sight of a nearly naked Cas is doing things to him that ought to wait until after dinner with his family.

“Go get ready, I’ll keep her company,” he says softly, doing his absolute best to not stare at the trail of hair heading south to places Dean would _love_ to get his mouth on.

Judging by Meg’s knowing smirk, he’s completely failed in his efforts.

“I’m good, Clarence,” Meg rasps with a trouble-making grin. “I got this yummy bit of eye candy to entertain me.” She winks and Dean feels his cheeks flush as her gaze settles on the front of his pants.

“Meg,” Cas chastises, edging in front of Dean to block her view. “Do not harass my boyfriend.”

Meg’s grin widens. “Come sit with me, cupcake.” Meg pats the seat next to her and eyes Dean hungrily.

He’s sure she won’t try anything.

Mostly.

Maybe.

He swallows hard and gestures for Cas to go get dressed. “I’ll be fine,” he says, giving his boyfriend (!) a careful smile as he settles onto the couch next to Meg. The thrill of finally being allowed to have Cas is nearly enough to assuage his nerves at the sight of Meg’s devious smile.

Cas narrows his eyes and looks between them, calculating and Dean swallows hard as he tries to maintain his confident smile.

He isn’t afraid of Meg, not really, but he’d be a fool to not be a little nervous.

Probably because she has a slightly demonic mamma bear vibe and he’s half certain that she wouldn’t hesitate to rip his throat out if he hurts Cas.

Which is good. Really. Dean can respect that. Hell, he even appreciates it.

Cas deserves to be looked after and cared for.

He would just rather not be on the receiving end of that threat.

“I’ll just be a few minutes,” Cas says, finally noticing how low his towel has fallen and he hurriedly hikes it back up and holds it in place as his cheeks redden. “What time do we need to be there?” He asks sheepishly as he shifts from foot to foot nervously.

Dean glances at his watch and does some quick mental math. “We’ve got about an hour. I told Ellen we might be a few minutes late, I wanna pick up a case of beer on the way.”

“Beer?” Cas asks with a raised brow and Dean’s cheeks flush.

“For Bobby and Ellen putting up with so much of my shit lately.” He shrugs. Bobby deserves so much more than a case of beer, but Dean knows better than to try to give the old codger anything that he can’t eat or drink.

“Castiel. Clothes, now.” Meg snaps her fingers and fixes him with an arched brow before pointing toward the hall.

Cas chews his lip and nods. “Right. Clothes. I’ll be right back.”

Finally, he turns to go and Meg sighs as she relaxes into the couch. “He’s been insufferable since he got up this afternoon.”

Dean turns to face her, propping one knee on the couch cushion. “What’s wrong?” If Cas isn’t feeling well or having doubts, they don’t need to spend the weekend together. This was Meg’s idea after all, not that Dean is going to complain, but he doesn’t want Cas to feel forced to spend time with him.

She buzzes her lips as she rolls her head toward him and blinks tiredly. “He’s just so damn stressed. About me, about money. I just, I just need him to live a little. Quit worrying so much.”

Dean nods, not knowing what to say. He agrees with her. Completely. But he doesn’t know Meg well enough to delve deeper into the topic.

“Why’d he get all wide-eyed when you mentioned beer, anyway?” She asks and Dean’s stomach swoops. “I know that look of his, saw it plenty of times myself when he was worried about old habits not dying properly. What gives?”

“He didn’t tell you?” Dean hedges and swallows hard around the sudden stickiness in his throat.

Meg huffs and shakes her head. “He’s been remarkably tight-lipped about you. It’s annoying.”

Dean nearly sputters out a laugh at her indignant pout and shakes his head, falling just a little bit more for Castiel knowing that he kept what Dean told him to himself when he had no real reason too.

It’s not like he ever intended Dean and Meg to meet.

“Well, I’m an alcoholic.” He sees her start to open her mouth so he rushes to continue. “I’ve sober almost four months, got family who’d kick my ass if I fell back into old habits.”

“Huh,” Meg says with a slight frown. “Guess I can relate, I used to be a junkie.”

Dean nods, not daring to mention that Cas already told him as much. “How’d you find the strength to get clean?” He’s genuinely curious. As much of a struggle as he’s been having, heroin is even harder to quit than alcohol.

He can’t imagine the kind of strength she must possess to have succeeded.

“Cas,” she says simply. “Did he tell you about how he got sick?”

Dean nods. “He told me enough, I think.”

“Then you know it was my fault,” Meg says bluntly with a frown.

A deep furrow forms between his brows and he shakes his head. “He said he got sick from a dirty needle.”

“Alright, I’m ready to go. Dean?” Cas stops as he enters the room, looking between the two of them nervously with a small duffle clutched in his hand.

“I talked him into shooting up,” Meg says, ignoring Castiel’s entrance.

“What are you guys talking about?” Cas strides forward with narrowed eyes.

Dean looks at Cas like a deer caught in the headlights but Meg barrels onward.

“He’d never have ended up here if I hadn’t talked him into going to that party,” Meg says, stealing a glance toward Cas before clutching at Dean’s hands.

“Meg, we’ve been over this. It wasn’t your fault.” Cas drops his bag and stares at her with hardened eyes.

“I needed to get clean to help him get back on his feet, but then this happened,” she trails off and gestures to herself and then the apartment around them. “You gotta understand Dean, everything I did was to try and help and I still ruined everything.”

“Meg.” Dean shakes his head as his expression morphs into a mask of disbelief.

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Cas’s tone is hard and leaves no room for arguing. “You know I’d never be pressured into doing something I didn’t already want to do.” He scrubs a hand over his face and shakes his head. “Everything that happened was because of _my_ choices.”

Meg slumps against the back of the couch and Dean gets a distinct feeling that this is an argument they’ve had more times than either can count. “Even if that were true, I’m sorry that I was the devil on your shoulder that led you down this path.”

Cas’s throat bobs as he swallows hard and Dean’s stomach twists. This seems like a moment that should be private, not on display for an outsider to see. “I, I can go wait in the car,” he stammers, looking between the others nervously.

“Nah, you two should get going.” Meg waves her hand dismissively before patting Dean’s thigh just a little higher than he’s entirely comfortable with. “I’ll be in touch, sweet cheeks.” She winks and Dean can feel his cheeks heating as he nods.

Dean lets Cas lead him to the door, both of them casting curious glances to Meg as they go.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Cas asks, fixing her with wide, pleading eyes that Dean already knows he’ll never be able to resist.

Before Dean even sees her move, her arms are wrapped around Castiel’s neck and her nose buried in the hollow of his throat. He can’t hear what she’s saying, but Cas’s eyes glisten as he holds her tight.

When she eventually pulls back, she smiles winningly despite the bloodied tissue still clasped in her hand and the watering of Castiel’s eyes. “You boys have fun now, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She winks at Dean before shooing them out the door and locking it behind them with a decisive click.

The walk out of Cas’s building and to Baby is as silent as the following drive as Cas collects himself. Nerves gnaw at Dean’s gut, he can’t shake the feeling that there was something she wasn’t telling him. Whether about Castiel’s brother or herself, Dean doesn’t know, but something felt off and his hindbrain refuses to let it go.

She’s Cas’s friend though, not his, he has no real cause to dwell apart from the man beside him.

“Dean?” Cas finally asks when they’re pulling into the parking lot of the store. “What were you and Meg talking about, really?”

Dean chews his lip as he pulls into a parking space. “Nothing,” he says, casting a careful glance at Castiel.

The arched brows staring back at him make his stomach flutter.

“Just, uh, getting to know each other. You didn’t tell her I’m an alcoholic.” Dean can’t help but feel the words flow off his tongue like an accusation despite his gratitude.

Cas shrugs but his frown deepens. “I didn’t think that was relevant.”

He nods. Cas isn’t wrong, but that does little to diminish his surprise. “Well, I told her, and she told me about her addiction, about why she decided to get clean.”

Cas turns narrowed eyes on him and Dean squirms in his seat. “That’s all?”

Dean nods and Cas hums.

“She’s up to something,” Cas finally says, staring blankly out the windshield.

Dean does his absolute best to shrug instead of nod and sends a quick prayer that his heating cheeks don’t draw further suspicion. “Oh,” he finally says, remembering something else Meg mentioned. “What’s a humbler?”

Cas groans loudly and drops his head into his hands/

“What? That bad?” Dean’s stomach flips as Cas lifts his chin to stare with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

“Dammit, Meg,” Cas grumbles, refusing to meet Dean’s eyes.

Now he definitely needs to know. “What is it?”

Cas closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh. “It’s a BDSM thing.”

Dean nods. Then shakes his head. “A what thing?”

“BDSM. Bondage and Discipline, Sadism and Masochism.” Cas stares out the window as he speaks, leaving Dean to study his reflection in the glass. “Let me see your phone? It’d be easier to just show you.”

Dean nervously hands over the device. “This isn’t going to land me on some watch list, is it?”

Cas huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “No, it’s not like that.” Cas opens the chrome browser and types something in as Dean does his best to peer over his shoulder, then he clicks over to images and hands the phone back.

“Oh, hell no!” Dean’s stomach drops and his mouth goes dry as he stares at the poor, poor man on the screen with his balls in a vice. “Who the hell comes up with shit like this?!”

Cas shrugs. “Some men enjoy it.”

The grimace on Dean’s face is nearly painful but the reddened tips to Castiel’s ears might be even worse. “Have you… She said you have one of those?!” His brows climb and his lungs tighten.

This isn’t a conversation they should be having.

Not when they haven’t even been on a proper first date yet.

Kinks aren’t first date material, right? Dean quickly decides that even if kinks could be discussed this early, right now isn’t the time. Not when they’re on the way to see Dean’s _family._

He can’t imagine the horror of pulling into Bobby and Ellen’s drive with his dick half-hard and mental images of Cas in all sorts of compromising positions floating around in his head.

“Nevermind,” Dean quickly changes the subject. “Just gotta grab a case of Margikugels for Bobby and Ellen and then we’ll be on our way.” He pushes the door to get out and doesn’t miss the way the nervous smile playing on Castiel’s lips quickly morphs into a smirk as the man squares his shoulders.

The asshole.

“You comin or what?” He gripes, pretending to scowl as he (carefully) slams Baby’s door and glares in Cas’s general direction before marching toward the store.

Cas catches up a moment later and slips his hands into Dean’s with a squeeze that makes Dean sigh in contentment. “Is this okay?” Cas implores, looking slightly up at Dean with wide blue eyes.

Dean flinches a smile and leans forward to place a chaste kiss on Cas’s lips. “Of course.”

“Good.” Cas nods and leans closer to whisper in Dean’s ear. “I think you would look incredible in a humbler.”

Dean nearly chokes as he sputters and several other people turn to give him strange looks as his cheeks flush crimson. “Cas,” he croaks as he smacks his chest with a closed fist. “You can’t just say things like that!” Where is this even coming from!?

Castiel nearly cackles with laughter and shows absolutely no remorse.

The asshole.

“I take back everything I said about you being sweet.” Dean shakes his head and stomps onward, refusing to look at Castiel just in case his surprised smile peeks out.

Hearing Cas’s bright laughter and seeing his gummy smile more than make up for being picked on.

He isn’t even sure why he’s surprised. Cas is friends with Meg, after all, and he’d be willing to bet an entire paycheck that Meg has some serious kinks up her sleeve.

He just didn’t expect Cas to _say_ something like in _public_. Showing him pictures in the car is one thing, but Dean is certain he’s going to have a permanent flush to his cheeks if Cas doesn’t cut it the hell out right now.

Cas bumps their shoulders together playfully and reclaims Dean’s hand as they turn down the beer aisle. “It’s not my fault you’re adorable when you blush,” Cas says sweetly, smirk firmly etched on his face.

“Shuddup,” Dean gripes, still pretending to be upset. This side of Cas is entrancing, he wishes he had been able to see more of this sooner. Maybe then he’d be more prepared.

“Let’s just get the beer and get out. You need anything?” Dean asks to distract himself from the mental images that Cas has planted in his brain. The images that little Dean might be threatening to show interest in and turn this shopping trip into an experience he would rather not have.

Trying to hide a boner in the middle of aisle twelve while Granny over there stares at his crotch does not sound like a good time.

Of course, Cas chuckles and shakes his head, determined to send Dean into an early grave.

Or at least a jail cell for public indecency if his dick doesn’t stop trying to perform tricks in his pants.

“I have everything I need right here.” Cas pats Dean’s ass playfully and slides his hand upward to rest at the small of Dean’s back.

Castiel’s light touch burns hot through Dean’s shirts and it takes all his will-power to not lean into it. “You’re a dick.”

“Hmmm, you like my dick,” Cas purrs and Dean narrows his eyes as he stares.

This is going a little too far. “What’s gotten into you?” Dean asks before his filter can kick in. The set of Cas’s shoulders is just a little too high and something about his smile isn’t quite right. Not that Dean is an expert of anything, but he’s certain that Castiel’s usual smile shows more in his eyes than his teeth and Dean is seeing none of that.

Cas’s wooden smile doesn’t fade but Dean would have to be blind to not notice the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “You’re just so sexy, I can’t help it.”

Bullshit.

“Cas,” Dean says, drawing out the man’s name as he tilts his head ever so slightly.

Cas’s eyes slide closed and he sighs before scrubbing his hands over his face. “Fuck. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head and meets Dean’s gaze with wide eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” He swallows hard and shakes his head again before turning pleading blue eyes on Dean.

“Hey, hey,” Dean says softly as he steps into Cas’s space to rest a hand on his arm. “Did I do something wrong?”

Cas shakes his head and bites his lip.

“We don’t have to go tonight. We can just go back to my place and order a pizza if you want.” Dean takes care to keep his voice soft but that does little to change the way that Cas looks like a scared rabbit about to run.

Cas scoffs and shakes his head. “Right, and what would you tell your family? That I chickened out? Some first impression that would make.”

Dean shakes his head with a frown. “I’d just say I wasn’t feeling well. It’ll be fine.”

“Sorry,” Cas says, pressing his fingertips against his eyes. “I’m such a mess.”

“You’re fine.” Dean shifts the case of beer to his other hand. “Let’s just get out of here, alright? I’ll call Ellen and say we can’t make it.”

Cas shakes his head. “No, no, I can do this. I want to go.”

“You sure?” Dean can’t shake the uneasy feeling in his gut and watching Cas fight a battle that Dean can’t imagine isn’t helping.

“Yeah.” Cas sucks in a deep breath and offers a slight nod. “I can do this.” He takes the beer from Dean and strides confidently toward the registers while Dean stares, dumbfounded by the mix of emotions and uneasy feelings rolling around in his stomach.

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

Maybe he should have just kept Cas to himself for a while longer, but when he mentioned that he was seeing someone, Ellen jumped on him like a mother hen.

Bobby’s snort of annoyance and grumbled comment about Dean not showing up to work on time only fed her interest.

And then there was Sam.

Sam, who thought having the mysterious Castiel there would help Dean feel more at ease when he meets Jess for the first time.

“Dean?” Cas is staring at him with an arched brow, waiting at the end of the aisle for Dean to finish his little moment of panic and get on with it.

He nods and swallows hard. “Right. Let’s get out of here. Just, uh, tone it down until we’re alone. Okay?”

Checking out goes smoothly despite the realization that this is the first time he’s bought alcohol in months. Even though he will not be drinking any, he holds the purchased case like a ticking bomb until Cas gently pries it from his fingers.

Dean is happy enough to fool himself that Castiel holding the beer lessens the tempted interest his body is feeling, that quiet little tingle that makes his blood sing and his heart ache with want of a different sort.

He scrubs his eyes and shakes his head. He was fine just a few minutes ago, he can be fine now.

“What are you going to tell them about me? About what I do for a living?” Cas asks as he tucks the case of beer into the backseat and climbs into the car.

Dean pulls in a slow breath through his nose with a frown. “What do you want to tell them?” He won’t stop Cas from telling the truth, he refuses to be ashamed, but he strongly suspects that Cas won’t feel the same way.

“The Gas and Sip story usually works.” Cas shrugs.

“Then we’ll go with that.” Dean nods and starts the engine. “Bobby and Ellen are good people, they won’t drill you too hard.”

“And Sam? Will he ask questions?” Cas turns to Dean with an arched brow as he backs out of the parking space.

“He might. But more because he kinda helped me find the guts to ask you out than wanting to be judgmental.” Dean tries not to cringe but he can’t help the weird little flip in his stomach as he reaches across the seat to squeeze Castiel’s fingers comfortingly. “Just relax, they’re going to love you.”

Cas huffs but doesn’t say a word as he stares out the window.

He does lace their fingers together, though, and Dean can’t help but smile as Baby slowly eats up the miles to his uncle’s house.

\---

This was a mistake. One, giant, epic mistake.

Dean snags his plate off the table and flees to the kitchen when Jess all but snorts across the table at something vaguely off-color that Cas quipped back with.

Who would have guessed that Sam would choose a girl so much like Ellen and her daughter, Jo?

Incorrigible and fearless.

Dean loves her already, but that doesn’t mean he appreciates Sam goading her and Cas into ganging up on him.

He never would have thought that Sam and Cas would click instantly, falling into some hippy assed conversation about the effects of climate change on global insect populations.

When Jess chimed in, talking about frogs and habitat desiccation, Dean stared across the table at the beer bottle that Bobby was taking a possessive swig from before he rolled his eyes and muttered about _damn kids_.

Somehow, that managed to segue into Sam launching into a story about how Dean once dumped a bucketful of frogs into the tub while Sam was showering, and ever since then, it’s been pick on Dean night.

He sighs and slumps against the counter, shoulders sagging as he refills his water glass and tipping it back with the vague wish that it was something with a little more burn.

This is fine. This is family.

And Cas is getting along with everyone just fine, it seems, despite his earlier nerves. Dean even caught Ellen pinching Cas’ bicep with a faint frown.

There are already Tupperware containers lined up on the counter for later because the chiding click of her tongue meant that fattening Cas up has become her new personal mission.

Dean knows that process all too well. The first month he was here, his fridge was never close to empty and his adoptive Aunt never hesitated to let herself into his apartment while he was working to make sure he was eating properly.

He can’t even be upset. Feeding people is what she _does_. Hence, the Roadhouse and especially now that Jo has flown the coop and settled halfway across the country.

Cas is just the most recent lucky recipient of Ellen’s attention and he’ll have to learn to deal with being force-fed some of the best food Dean’s ever eaten.

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice comes from the entryway of the kitchen, whisper-soft and unsure enough to make Dean spin on his heels and meet his gaze with a soft smile. “I’m sorry if I went too far, I didn’t mean…”

Dean wastes no time stepping into Cas’ space and pressing their lips together firmly. “You’re fine, sunshine. I’m just not used to so many people.”

Cas nods and chews his lip as he searches the expression Dean does his best to school into casual nonchalance. “I understand. It has been a very long time since I have been around anything resembling a family.” He wraps his arms around Dean’s waist slowly, giving Dean time to back away.

Dean doesn’t even consider the option. His arms wrap around Castiel’s shoulders effortlessly and pull him close, swaying slightly in the wide space to music only they can hear. “Are you doing alright with this?” He whispers against the shell of Cas’ ear. “We can go whenever you’re ready.”

Cas hums and sags against Dean as he burrows his nose into the column of Dean’s throat. “I’m okay.”

Dean’s heart flutters when he feels the steady rhythm of Cas’ heart beating against his chest, barely noticeable through their shirts but the most important feeling in the world right now.

“You two are disgusting,” Ellen gripes from the door and smirks when Dean shoots her a warning glare.

Cas jumps away as if Dean suddenly caught fire and he turns to Ellen with apologetic wide eyes. “I’m sorry, we weren’t doing any….”

Ellen laughs and shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it, sugar. I’m just giving Dean a hard time.” She swats his arm playfully as she breezes past them to the sink. Sam is close on her heels, arms laden with dishes that Cas hurries to help with, leaving Dean alone in the middle of the kitchen to stare like an idiot.

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam says with a soft smile as Cas lightens his load and gently sets the ceramic in the sink.

“Nuh-uh.” Ellen bats Cas out of the way. “You’re a guest in this house, mister. These two yahoos can handle the clean-up, come sit with us.” She leads Cas away with a hand on his shoulder and Dean sends him an apologetic shrug.

“I can help…” Cas protests, wide eyes begging Dean for rescue even as he starts filling the sink.

Dean can’t help the chuckle that escapes him as he strides across the kitchen to close the space between them. “We’ll only be a few minutes,” he says softly, adoring the little wrinkle that forms between Cas’ knitted brows. He knows better than to defy Ellen’s wishes.

If she wants Cas to fill the role of guest and be excused from dish duty, then he is not going to protest.

“Cas!” Jess cries from the kitchen entrance, eyeing the two of them fondly. “Come help me set up the games.” She bounces to Castiel’s side and loops her elbow with his playfully as she gives her boyfriend a hearty wink and Cas looks to Dean with wide eyes.

Her grin is devious, but Dean can’t help but feel a rush of affection for the woman. He may have only just met her but she’s kind of awesome in a nerdy way that balances well with Sam.

Dean reaches for the towel draped over the oven handle and twirls it in his hands. “You go ahead, Cas. I gotta make sure this Sasquatch doesn’t break anything.” Dean says as he snaps the towel at his brother, quick as a viper, and laughs at his extremely clever sneak attack.

Ellen fixes him with an unimpressed look even as Sam yelps and Jess cackles.

Cas simply looks confused and Dean can’t help but hug that look right off his face.

He’d rather be kissing him, but the way his stomach twists into knots at the thought of Ellen and Sam seeing him kissing a man chills the heat in his veins and he’s left giving Cas an awkward little smile as he nudges him toward Jess. “You’ll be alright. I promise they don’t bite.” Dean winks, because he’s Dean freaking Winchester and he does not cuddle.

No matter what anyone thinks.

“Are you sure?” Cas wrings his hands, looking to Dean with a hundred doubts flickering behind his brilliant blue eyes.

“Don’t worry kiddo. These ruffians had their rabies shots. Promise.” Ellen grins cheekily as she claps Cas’s shoulder and strides past to join her husband in the other room.

“Alright.” Cas nods, swallowing hard to cement his courage. “I suppose I will help set up the games. What are we going to play?” He turns to Jess, voice strong despite the unease Dean can still see lingering in his eyes.

Jess slings her arm around his shoulder and steers him toward the dining room. “We have quite a few. I can’t speak for Dean, but Bobby and Sam love Trivial Pursuit. Don’t tell anyone, but Bobby is secretly a huge nerd,” she whispers the last part and Dean can’t help but chuckle.

She ain’t wrong.

Sam bumps his shoulder the instant Cas and Jess are out of sight. “So? He seems nice.”

Dean grins. “So does she.”

“Never thought I’d see you so gone on somebody,” Sam teases and Dean scowls.

“Shuddup,” Dean grumbles, halfheartedly flinging his dishtowel at his brother.

Sam chuckles and his smile softens. “It’s a good look on you.”

Dean scowls harder but deep inside, his heart flips happily and he can’t help but nod ever so slightly.

If Sam weren’t watching him so closely he would have missed it.

“I’m happy for you too, bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Washing the dishes goes quickly and Sam moves so easily around the kitchen that Dean has to tamp down on a pang of jealousy. Sam has been here enough to know his way around the kitchen. Even Jess has been here often enough to have Ellen doting on her and Bobby begrudgingly offering her a hug when they came through the door. Although, Dean knows his uncle well enough to know that he secretly loves hugs and would have been offended if Jess hadn’t accepted.

Even game night goes smoothly with Cas giving Sam a run for his money in Trivial Pursuit and showcasing how incredibly brilliant he is when he lets his guard down.

Dean is somewhat in awe and half hard in his pants when Cas launches into a long explanation of how Sam is wrong about some random fact that Dean can’t even be bothered to pay attention too.

Even Bobby seems impressed, a near impossibly feat.

Cas finally nudges Dean’s shoulder when he’s yawned widely for at least the tenth time in the last half hour and Dean smiles sleepily at him. “We should probably go soon, you look exhausted,” Cas leans close to whisper and Dean can’t deny the truth to that statement.

“What time is it?” Dean licks his lips and swallows down another yawn as he glances at his phone.

Almost eleven.

Damn.

Sam yawns and stretches his arms wide above his head. “We should probably head out too, long drive back to Palo Alto.”

Jess rolls her eyes. “It’s only an hour. I’ll drive if you’re too tired.” She pokes in the ribs with a soft smile and Sam readily wraps his arm over her shoulders.

Dean nods and gestures to the cards scattered across the table in front of them. “Help me clean this up, Sammy.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it boys, we’ll take care of everything later,” Ellen says but Jess waves her off as Cas reaches for the box.

Sam already has the cards half gathered by the time Dean has collected the rest of the pieces and Cas tucks everything neatly away while Bobby watches with a pleased quirk to his lips.

“You boys take care,” Ellen says as she squeezes the breath out of Castiel before pushing him into Dean’s waiting arms.

Bobby settles for firm handshakes from the guys and another warm hug from Jess as he ushers them all out onto the front porch. When it’s Castiel’s turn to say goodbye, Sam and Jess are already climbing into their car. “Give us a minute, Dean,” Bobby says gruffly as he gestures toward Baby with his chin.

“But,” Dean starts to protest but Bobby cuts him off.

“Go, Boy.” Bobby points and Cas drops his chin to stare at his toes. Dean stares, unwilling to throw Cas to the wolves.

Not that he thinks Bobby with do anything, but Cas doesn’t look comfortable and _that_ is what matters here.

“Go ahead, Dean.” Cas squares his shoulders and sucks in a deep breath. “I’ll be okay.”

Dean opens his mouth to protest but is held silent by Cas’s encouraging nod and Bobby’s hard stare. “Fine, I’m going, I’m going.” He holds his hands up in surrender and quickly crosses the front walk to Baby just as Sam is backing his Nissan something or other out of the driveway.

He can’t stop himself from giving that plastic piece of crap a narrow-eyed glare even as he waves goodbye to his brother.

He raised that boy better than to willingly choose such a flimsy piece of machinery over an American classic.

Once Sam and Jess are out of sight and he’s settled behind Baby’s wheel, he turns his glare toward Bobby, watching Cas carefully for signs of distress.

Bobby is wearing his deadly serious face, the one that often stopped Dean in his tracks from doing something stupid as a kid, but Castiel looks unfazed.

It drives Dean crazy that he can’t read Cas better. The man is so stoic, so composed, that Bobby would be saying anything right now and Cas wouldn’t give anyone a clue what he’s thinking.

Sure, he’s had to develop a thick skin to get by the way he has, but that doesn’t mean Dean has to like it.

After what feels like an eternity, Bobby holds his hand out for Cas to shake, and the resulting contact borders on violence in its forcefulness. But, neither man storms away and they don’t _look_ angry. That's a good sign, right?

Cas is barely settled in his seat when Dean’s mouth opens. “So, what did he want?”

Cas lets out a loud puff of air and shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

It is not fine.

“Cas,” Dean says, shifting in his seat. “If he said something...”

Cas shakes his head harder. “No, it isn’t that. I just, don’t want to talk about it right now. Okay?”

Dean narrows his eyes and his jaw clenches as the need to demand answers bubbles in his chest but he’s determined to hold back. He has no reason to doubt Bobby’s intentions and he has no reason to doubt Cas. “Okay.”

The word physically pains him, but he manages to get it out without too much of a dejected huff as he backs out of the driveway.

He must do a poor job because Cas huffs right back at him before dropping his head against the seat. “Bobby is very protective of you.”

Dean snorts and shakes his head. Bobby is an ornery old coot, protective isn’t exactly the word Dean would choose for him.

“He called you his son.” Cas turns to Dean and pierces his soul with those brilliant blue eyes, seeing through all the bullshit Dean might think to throw at him. “He said that your father wasn’t much of a dad.”

“Understatement,” Dean grumbles under his breath. “Bobby has always been more of a Dad to me than my dad. He always gave a shit, you know? When my dad was off drinking or hunting or whatever the hell he did and I was left taking care of Sam, Bobby was the one who’d check in on us, send us money for food. More than once, he drove all night to come and get us from whichever fleabag motel dad dumped us in. Don’t think I woulda made it without him.”

Cas nods as if this all makes sense. “You are lucky to have someone like him in your life.”

Another massive understatement. Too bad Dean spent the last several years fucking up every good thing Bobby had ever done for him.

He didn’t deserve it when the man had come to John’s funeral and gave him that ultimatum. He hadn’t deserved that third, fourth, fifth? Chance after all the shit he pulled. “He tell you that?” Dean is the perpetual fuckup. Always has been and he’s just waiting to somehow fuck it all up again.

Bobby probably is too.

“No,” Cas says simply. “He told me that if I hurt you, he has a shotgun, a shovel, and an alibi.”

Dean nearly chokes from surprise before shaking his head with a strained laugh. “Figures. He does know I ain’t some teenage girl, right?” Because that sounds an awful lot like what a Dad would say to his daughter’s prom date.

“I believe he knows that, yes.” Cas nods seriously.

Dean lets out a heavy breath and nods as Baby gains speed. “Right then. Okay.”

“Okay?” Cas asks, tilting his head slightly with a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah, Cas. Okay.” Dean reaches across the bench seat to find Castiel’s hand and joins their fingers.

Cas’s smile widens and his eyes soften. “He also said something else.”

“Yeah?” Dean turns his head to look and Cas nods.

“Yes. He said that _family don’t end in blood_. What does that mean?” If Cas didn’t look so innocently confused, Dean might be content to toy with him but that phrase is something Dean himself has been told more times than he can count.

Every time Dean had asked Bobby why he bothered, why he cared what happened to him and Sam.

Why he kept coming around even when John made it clear he wasn’t welcome.

Dean takes a deep breath. “It means you’ve been adopted.”

“Adopted?” Cas’s head tilts further and Dean just wants to kiss him.

“Yeah, man. Means they like you. You didn’t get the hint from all those Tupperware containers of food that Ellen made us take?” Dean smirks as he makes the turn that will take them to his apartment. “She intends to fatten you up.”

“Those are for me?” Cas’s eyes grow wide and he shakes his head. “I thought those were for you.”

Dean shrugs. “Well, yeah, one or two… but I might have let it slip that you’re living on a tight budget. You seriously didn’t notice when she pinched your arm and shook her head?”

“I, what?” Cas looks absolutely confused and ten times more adorable than usual.

“Just shut up and let her mother you.”

“But I haven’t done anything to deserve it, I can’t pay them back…” Cas shakes his head, eyes growing wider by the second.

Dean can’t help but laugh. “With Bobby and Ellen, it ain’t about that. They care because they care, not because they think you can give them something.”

Cas falls silent and Dean frowns, his stomach doing an odd little flip when his words hit a little too close to home.

It’s different.

Totally different.

But then why does the thought make his chest ache?

They drive in silence for a few minutes as Dean weaves through the section of town where the shop is located and Baby coasts into her spot behind the garage underneath the large awning that keeps the weather off her flawless paint.

As the engine clicks and hisses after Dean pulls the key, Cas finally shakes his head with a sigh.

“I don’t know how to handle this. People being nice.”

“Just let them.” Dean shrugs. “Smile and say thank you, try to prove they’re not wasting their time. That’s the best you can do, I think.” He swallows hard, not liking this conversation one little bit.

He pulls off his seatbelt and throws himself from the car with his keys already in hand as Cas follows quietly behind.

The climb up the stairs lasts an eternity, knowing that Cas is only a step behind and they’re about to be truly alone for the first time in nearly a week. Even with the faint tension lingering between them and the unwelcome squirming in his gut, Dean wants little more than to hold Cas in his arms and fall asleep on the couch with Dr. Sexy playing in the background.

“Dammit!” Dean all but stomps his foot as he reaches the landing and another unwelcome thought barges into his mind. “The leftovers.” Are still in the car.

Down the stairs that he _just_ climbed.

“I’ll go get them.” Cas volunteers and holds his hand out for the keys as Dean unlocks the apartment.

His heart skips a beat in mild horror. No one but him has touched those keys since the hospital handed over his Dad’s possessions when he finally showed up to claim them. He can’t just trust his Baby to someone else without good cause but Cas’s fingers close around the cool metal before Dean can think the problem to death.

“I’ll be right back.” Cas leans up to press a chaste kiss to Dean’s lips before turning and thundering down the stairs, leaving Dean to stand on the stoop and stare with a hundred conflicting emotions running through his mind.

He blinks in Cas’s absence, wondering how he managed to find himself standing alone in front of his apartment with his most beloved possession in the hands of another man.

He’s lost his mind, that’s how.

He’s gone completely insane.

Yet, a sense of peace begins to fill his heart as he waits. He could go inside, sure, he could even chase after Cas and take his keys back but he can’t bring himself to move.

Especially not when Cas reappears and grins up at him from the bottom of the stairs with the bag full of Tupperware in hand.

Dean shakes himself off and smiles as Cas trudges up the steps with his heavy burden. “Shall we go inside?” Cas asks, amusement clear in his tone as Dean picks his jaw up off the floor and follows him through the still-open door.

Not for the first time, Dean is glad his apartment is above the garage and not in a building full of neighbors to witness him being a lovesick idiot.

Cas makes himself at home after tucking Baby’s keys into Dean’s hand. He kicks off his heavy boots next to the door and packs the leftovers into the fridge. Even going as far as washing the dirty plate Dean had left in the sink after scarfing a quick snack earlier.

The clink of cheap ceramic on the stainless bowl of the sink pulls Dean out of his stupor and he shakes his head. “You don’t need to do that,” he quickly says as he steps into Cas’s space and pries the plate from his soapy hands.

“I know.” Cas leans back against Dean’s chest despite his token protest. “I wanted to.”

“Still,” Dean mutters before pressing a line of chaste kisses along the column of Castiel’s throat. “Just come sit with me?”

Cas hums with an agreeing sound but doesn’t bother moving. “Dean?”

Dean pauses in his mission to kiss every inch of skin available to him to rest his chin on Cas’s shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Can we still go to the library tomorrow? I,” he pauses and swallows hard, “I’ve been trying to find Gabriel but seeing you with Sam tonight, I just…”

Dean’s heart stutters and his stomach twists as he closes his eyes, bracing himself. “Meg found him.”

Cas spins, narrowly missing clocking Dean’s chin with his skull. “What?” His eyes blow wide and Dean’s mouth goes dry as he flounders.

“She, uh, gave me his number to give to you?” He says with a wince. He had hoped that he’d be able to gently introduce the idea but it seems the band-aid approach is what he’s going with. “She wasn’t sure you were ready, she thought…”

“She gave you his number instead of talking to me?” Cas stares, jaw clenching. “What did she say exactly?”

Castiel’s tone takes on an edge that Dean can’t quite place and his eyes narrow threateningly. He digs in his pocket for the scrap of paper Meg had thrust upon him and shoves it toward Cas. “She just said that she was afraid you would throw it away, she didn’t want you to make any rash decisions…” Dean tries to explain as Cas brushes past him, phone already in hand.

“She isn’t answering,” Cas grumbles as he spins. “She lied to me and now she’s ignoring me.”

Dean shakes his head. “No, that isn’t it. She was just trying to look out for you, I’m sure she didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You don’t understand,” Cas says with a huff as he starts to pace. “We’ve been through everything together! She knows how hard I’ve been trying to find a way to contact my brother and she already had his number!” Cas hits the button on his phone again and presses the device to his ear.

“Please don’t be angry.” Dean’s stomach plummets as he picks up the scrap of paper from the floor. This is exactly what Meg had been afraid of and Dean should have handled this better. “Let’s just watch some TV and we'll figure everything out tomorrow.” He carefully pries the phone from Cas’s grip and sets it aside before leading Cas to the couch. “Just give it some time to sink in, okay?”

Cas sucks in a harsh breath through his nose but he still gives Dean a curt nod. “Fine.”

He goes woodenly where Dean puts him, but the moment they’re both on the couch, Cas is melting into Dean’s side like he was made to fit there and he gently pries the paper with Gabriel’s information from Dean’s hand. “So this is it,” Cas stares at the simple piece of lined notebook paper, torn from a larger page and folded roughly. “What if he doesn’t want to talk to me?”

Dean huffs and shakes his head as he cinches his arm around Cas’s shoulders. “You do remember what you told me when I was afraid to call Sam, right?”

“That’s come back to bite me in the butt,” Cas snorts before pinching a frown and turning to Dean. “Will you be there with me? When I call him?”

Dean presses a tender kiss to Castiel’s brow. “Of course, Sunshine. Anything you need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, much love and thank you for reading. I'd love to hear from you if you're so inclined.


	12. The Day Everything Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas continue their weekend together and as steamy as Sunday starts out, not everything goes as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the delay, I feel horrible that I'm dragging my feet on wrapping this one up. The next chapter is almost finished, so hopefully, it'll only be another week or so before I can post. Anyway, I recommend having some tissues nearby for this one...

By the time they’re stumbling through Dean’s door after breakfast, limbs entwined and lips locked, Dean is floating higher than he ever could when he was living at the bottom of a bottle and this euphoria is entirely due to the man currently nipping and sucking at his collar bone.

“Cas,” Dean breathes, voice barely more than a breathy whine as he fumbles to lock the door behind him. “You were gonna call...”

Cas nudges Dean toward the couch with a muffled grunt of disagreement. “Later.” He clearly has more important things to do and Dean would hate to interrupt his progress.

Dean goes down and Cas climbs over him in one fluid motion, his darkened eyes nearly predatory as he maneuvers Dean where he wants him.

Dean’s dick plumps in his jeans and his brain goes offline as he bucks his hips against Cas, feeling the other man’s hardness. There was something he wanted to talk about, something he wanted to ask, but for the life of him, he can’t remember why that should be more important than this.

_Cas_ repeats in his mind like a chant, his world consumed by the man already pawing at the front of his jeans. His fingers tangle in the back of Cas’s shirt to hold him closer as he groans into their kiss and spreads his knees for Cas to settle between.

This is perfection and Dean would be hard-pressed to think of something more to ask.

Especially when Cas’s large hand works its way under Dean’s shirt and clever fingers pinch and tug at his rapidly hardening nipple. A wanton groan escapes his throat and Dean’s brain refuses to remember why he had wanted to talk to Cas before things got physical.

There was something, he’s sure of it.

But what does it matter?

A palm pressing against his dick reminds him and Dean pulls back with a gasp. “Cas,” he says, forcing his tone to be steady despite his racing heart and curling need low in his gut.

Cas sucks in a breath through parted lips, eyes wide and dark as he nods. “Dean.”

That low, gravel-filled rasp makes Dean’s toes curl and his eyes threaten to roll back into his head, but he reins himself in and meets Cas’s gaze. “Bedroom?” To hell with talking. How can he be expected to deny Cas anything when his hands are dipping below the waist of Dean’s jeans?

Cas shifts to his feet with a salacious grin and offers Dean his hand.

Dean doesn’t hesitate. His feet nearly trip over each other in his haste to let Cas lead him through the small apartment but Dean wouldn’t change a thing. Not even when Cas shoves him backward to send him tumbling onto his mattress with a surprised squawk.

Cas is a force to be reckoned with, single-minded in his quest to pin Dean to the bed. He climbs over him, hips swaying as he knees his way up the bed until he’s all Dean can see.

The delicious pressure of Castiel’s ass settling over his groin has Dean whimpering as his hands wrap around Cas’s hips to hold him in place but Cas only smirks and shifts away. “I want to ride you,” Cas says breathlessly as he tugs at Dean’s belt.

Dean lets out a shaky breath and nods. “Okay.” Cas can have anything he wants from him.

Anything.

Especially that.

Castiel’s smile softens as he tugs his shirt over his head and Dean’s hands quickly find their way to the long stretch of golden skin as Cas settles back in his lap. Yet again, Dean is struck by Cas’s graceful beauty. His easy, sinuous movements are enticing in ways that he’s sure that Cas doesn’t even intend.

Dean may not have a plethora of experience with men, but he’s absolutely certain that Castiel is someone special, someone who can change his life in all the best ways.

He tugs Cas closer, wrapping his fingers around the back of Cas’s neck to hold him within reach as he sucks and licks his way across Castiel’s jaw and down his slender throat. He chases after the slight tang of salt clinging to Cas’s skin, spurred on by breathy moans and grasping fingers.

“Dean,” Cas whines, grinding their denim-covered dicks together as he pushes into Dean’s grasp.

It’s too early to think of those three little words but damn him if they aren’t nudging at the back of his mind.

Instead of letting them have a voice, he finds the sharp cut of Cas’s hipbones and pulls him firmer against his hardened cock as he reclaims his mouth, pouring every stray emotion into the kiss.

Cas seems to understand perfectly, twining his fingers through the hairs at the back of Dean’s head to hold him ever closer as a needy whimper builds low in his throat.

“Cas,” Dean breathes when they pull apart, eyes wide as he slides his palms up the firm planes of Castiel’s sides, stomach squirming happily at the pressure settled over his lap and the way Cas stretches his torso as he straightens, chin tipping back and he rolls his hips hard enough to make Dean gasp.

When Cas looks down at him, Dean’s heart nearly stops from the sheer need building low in his gut. His dick twitches against Cas’s ass and Cas smirks knowingly, giving his hips another tortuous roll as his smooth palms skate up Dean’s chest.

Dean could die right now without a single regret. Not even the years he lost to his addiction if those are what led him here.

This is worth holding onto. This is better than anything he ever thought he would deserve but he isn’t going to ask too many questions.

Not if he can have lazy evenings playing games with his family, if he can have Cas gracing him with his barely-there smile and a pleased sparkle in his eye, and especially if he can have more late mornings that echo this exact moment.

Cas shuffles off him and Dean bites his lip as he watches the man shuck his jeans over his hips and down his legs with one easy motion, leaving him bare to Dean’s hungry gaze. Cas’s cock stands proud, thick, proud, and utterly mouthwatering.

It’s then that Dean catches a flicker of insecurity in those bottomless blue eyes, a slight shift of his weight as Cas’s hands rub at his upper arms. Almost as quickly as the hesitation appears, it’s gone and Dean’s heart patters as Cas hooks his fingers in the waistband of Dean’s jeans and pulls.

He pushes his ass up to help, and Cas wastes no time tossing his jeans and underwear to the floor before resuming his position over Dean’s lap. His cock bobs heavily, eager to be touched and when Cas shifts and shimmies into place, he nearly loses the resolve to let Cas take what he wants from him.

The first brush of their naked cocks together pulls a delighted gasp from Dean as his clutches for Cas’s hips and holds him in place as they rut together. Dean’s self-restraint stretches and threatens to crumble but he holds true, letting Cas set the pace as he grinds above him.

“Dean,” Cas chuckles, gently pressing his hands to Dean’s shoulders as he leans forward for a kiss. “Condom.”

“Ungh?” Dean groans in protest when Cas lifts his weight off him and stretches to reach inside the drawer at the bedside.

He watches with wide eyes as Cas tears open the foil packet and unrolls the condom over Dean’s cock with practiced ease, barely taking time to add some lube to the mix before he scoots into place and lines himself up.

“Whoa, Cas!” Dean grips Castiel’s hips and tries to keep him from sinking down but Cas only smirks and lets himself drop.

“Dean,” Cas chides, “you don’t need to worry.” He bottoms out quickly and tilts his chin toward the ceiling with a satisfied groan. “I’m loose enough.”

Dean’s eyes roll back as Cas bottoms out and tightens his muscles, wrapping Dean’s cock in a perfect vice. The need to feel more has his hips flexing instinctively but Cas clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

“Let me.” Cas smiles down at him and Dean’s cheeks redden as his heart skips and his dick twitches.

“Sorry,” his fingers squeeze Cas’s hips in apology but Cas silences him with a finger over his lips.

Cas shakes his head and rolls his hips languidly, lifting just enough to steal Dean’s breath and ability to remember what he was apologizing for.

For the next several minutes, Dean can do little but stare up at Cas as he takes what he wants, fucking himself on Dean’s cock like it belongs to him. As far as Dean is concerned, it does.

If that is the price to pay for the vision above him and the delighted pattering of his heart, he will gladly give himself over.

“Fuck, Dean, you feel so good.” Cas increases his pace, lifting and dropping roughly as the sound of skin slapping skin fills the room.

Dean lets out a choked off groan as he runs his hands over Castiel’s thighs and arches his back, pulling a startled gasp of delights from the man above him.

“Do that again,” Cas demands as he tilts forward, bracing his palms on Dean’s chest.

Dean is happy to oblige and quickly cants his hips to earn more of those delicious sounds as Cas works them closer to climax. “Like this?” Dean pants, clenching down on his rapidly approaching orgasm just to give Cas a little more pleasure.

“Yes,” Cas sighs, throwing his head back euphorically. “So close.”

Dean doubles his efforts, meeting Castiel thrust for thrust as heat coils low in his belly and a light sheen of sweat breaks out all over his body.

“I’m going to...Dean!” Cas cries out when Dean thrusts particularly hard and he drops forward to brace his palms against Dean’s chest.

“Come on, Cas, let me see,” Dean mutters as he wraps his fingers around Cas’s hardened length. He strokes roughly in time with their wanton movements and Cas clenches around his dick, leaving Dean to see stars as they work together.

Cas lets out a ragged groan that nearly sounds pained as he thrusts into Dean’s hand before pushing back onto his cock and it doesn’t take long for his entire body to tense and shudder as he coats Dean’s hand and stomach with his sticky spend. “You close?” Cas breathes as he continues to work himself on Dean’s dick, ass clenching. “Come on, Dean, fill me up.”

Cas continues to mutter filth as he slams himself down over and over until Dean finally feels the sharp euphoria of his orgasm pulse forward and overtake him. He lets out a strangled cry as his dick pulses and fills the condom, but Cas only slows marginally, working Dean through his pleasure until there is nothing left but his oversensitive and softening cock.

“That okay?” Cas flops onto the bed next to Dean, breathing heavily as he carefully flexes his legs with a wince.

Dean can’t help his dopey grin as he rolls his head on his shoulders to face Castiel. He shrugs. “It’ll do.”

Cas’s face does a few things at once, first, his brows pinch and his lips part in disbelief and then he fixes Dean with a pointed frown and glares until Dean can’t hide his smile any longer and bursts out laughing.

“Ass.” Cas smacks Dean’s shoulder with a bark of laughter.

Dean rolls onto his side, ignoring the cooling mess on his stomach as he half pins Cas to the bed with a hum. “You like my ass.”

Cas shakes his head and dislodges Dean from his chest with a quick roll onto his side. “You do have a very nice ass.”

“We should get cleaned up,” Dean presses a noisy kiss to Cas’s brow and rolls away to strip off the condom still clinging to him and is rewarded with a sharp pinch to his ass in the process. “Hey!” Dean barks but any heat is hidden by the sharp jolt of laughter that escapes him.

Cas rolls onto his stomach with a hum, oblivious to the picture he makes lounging naked on the bed with his head pillowed on his arms. “What do you want to do today?” He blinks his too blue eyes and Dean is pretty sure that they’re not going to make it out of bed again if Cas doesn’t put some pants on.

Nonetheless, he wipes away the mess on his stomach with a shirt off the floor, it could be his or it could be Castiel’s, he doesn’t care enough to pay attention. Not when Cas is stretched out so invitingly.

He knees his way onto the bed and swings a leg over Cas’s hips, settling his weight just below Castiel’s perfectly round ass.

“Dean.” Cas struggles to push up and cranes his head around to stare with wide eyes. “What are you doing?”

Dean smiles at him and leans forward to press a chaste kiss to his shoulders before pressing his fingertips firmly against the tense muscle. “I just want to help you relax.”

“But...” Cas starts, swallowing hard around the sharp edge in his tone.

“Shhh.” Dean continues kneading Cas’s shoulders and works his way along his spine as the man slowly relaxes beneath him. “Just let me, please.”

Cas grumbles something into his arms and finally deflates, letting Dean carefully massage away the knots littering Cas’s shoulders.

As he works his way lower, Dean peppers kisses to the few freckles he finds and grins against the warmth of Castiel’s skin when the man lets out a happy little sigh and sinks further into the mattress.

“Better?” Dean asks as he scoots over Cas’s legs and starts on the perfect little dimples of his lower back. He graces each one with a kiss that earns him a smothered giggle from the owner of said dimples.

When Cas turns his head and blinks sleepily at Dean, he can’t help but crawl up the bed for a languid kiss that ends with Cas dragging him down next to him and snuggling against his side with his head on Dean’s chest.

“Thank you.” Cas tightens his hold around Dean’s middle and lets out a heavy sigh when Dean starts tracing idle patterns on the bare skin of his back.

With a hum, he kisses Cas’s brow and lets silence settle comfortably between them as his thoughts wander to the little piece of paper that Cas has been steadfastly ignoring since they woke up hours ago.

He hasn’t even tried to call Meg.

Does he still want to call Gabriel or was that some heat of the moment whim last night?

Cas sighs from where he’s tucked into the crook of the Dean’s neck. “I want to.”

“Hmm?” Dean’s fingertips stall between Castiel’s shoulder blades and he pulls his head back so he can get a better look at the man clinging to him.

“Call Gabriel. I want to call him.” Cas lifts his chin to meet Dean’s eyes warily.

“Did I ask that out loud or are you a mind reader?” Dean narrows his eyes playfully even as his heart twists. The caution reflected in the depths of Castiel’s eyes and the way his shoulders slump even while laying down sparks a deep need to wrap Cas in his arms and shield him from the horrors of the world.

If only he had the power to do just that.

Cas hums and drags Dean closer so he can become a human pillow once again. “You’re easy to read.”

Dean wishes he could say the same about Cas.

“If I put the phone on speaker, will you sit with me?” Cas drags his fingertips down Dean’s breastbone and back up, catching on the sparse smattering of reddish hairs that dare to grow there.

“Of course.” Dean squeezes Castiel’s shoulders and scoots up the bed until he’s leaning against the headboard with Cas glaring at him for disturbing his comfortable position.

“Now?”

“Maybe put pants on first. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I would want to talk to Sammy when I’m bare ass naked,” Dean shifts again to get more comfortable and ends up stuffing a pillow behind his back when he fails.

Cas blinks slowly before nodding and climbing off the bed in search of clothes and chucks Dean’s underwear directly at his head once he finds them.

“Ass,” Dean grumbles when he barely catches them before smacking him in the face.

Cas shrugs and tugs on his boxers. “You said we should put pants on.”

Dean shakes his head and forces himself to his feet so he can dress without the astonishingly sexy display of him floundering around the bed like an ailing squid as he tugs his underwear up his legs while sitting.

As much as Castiel might enjoy that show, a man needs to know his limits and gracefulness is one of his.

He’ll keep his dignity thank you very much.

“In here or the living room?” Dean asks once their clothing has been recovered and Cas is standing in the middle of the room with his old flip phone in hand.

Cas shakes his head and his eyes widen. “I can’t do this.”

“You can. I’ll be right here.” He steps into Castiel’s space and closes his hand around the phone. “Come on.” He takes the phone and gently tugs Cas toward the narrow hall. This will be more comfortable on the couch.

Cas follows with a hard swallow, his nerves showing in the way his hand trembles in Dean’s grasp.

“Water? Coffee?” Dean asks, wishing he had something stronger to offer when Cas shakes his head sharply and sucks in a deep breath with closed eyes. “Alright, come sit with me.”

Dean sets Cas’s phone and the paper with Gabriel’s phone number on the low table at his knees as Cas settles beside him.

“Alright,” Cas says without reaching for his phone. “I can do this.”

He still sits frozen stiff beside Dean, not moving an inch. Not even to lean into Dean’s side.

With the garage downstairs Sunday silent, Dean can almost hear the thudding of his heart as he waits for Castiel to find his courage.

Finally, Cas’s shoulders sink and he presses his brow against Dean’s shoulder with a groan. After a beat, he straightens with a firm nod and reaches for his phone. “I can do this.”

Dean watches silently as Cas begins to press buttons, his jaw set firmly in determination when he finally presses the call button and sets the now ringing phone in front of them.

One ring after another, Dean waits with bated breath and Castiel shifts in his seat, wringing his hands and shaking them out over and over again.

Five rings in, Cas pushes to his feet and paces. “He isn’t going to answer. It’s probably the wrong number…” he babbles and shakes his head.

The phone clicks and Cas freezes, staring with wide-eyed horror at the shuffling sounds coming from the other end of the line.

“Hello?” A voice says and Castiel makes a strangled squeak of a sound before covering his mouth with his hand. “Who is this?”

Cas stares like a deer caught in the headlights, afraid to move for fear of utter destruction.

“Heeellllooooo.” The voice comes again, and Dean looks to Cas worriedly.

“Uh, hi,” Dean says since it seems that Cas is too overwhelmed to talk.

“Gabriel,” Cas finally squeaks, his voice barely more than a whisper but the man on the other end seems to hear him just fine.

His singular word is greeting with thundering silence as they stare at the phone, waiting for it to leap from the table and attack.

Finally, the sound of a door closing in the background and muffled shuffling gives way to words on the other end of the line.

“Cassie?! Cassie, is that you? Oh my god,” Gabriel starts to ramble and Cas chokes on a sob as he drops to his knees in front of the phone.

“Gabe,” he croaks, voice clogged with tears. He wipes at his watery eyes but the grin on his face manages to set Dean at ease.

Barely.

“Are you okay?” Gabriel asks, harsh rustling coming from the other end of the line. “Where are you?”

Cas grins wider and nods as he presses his closed fist to his lips. “I’m good. Living in San Francisco.”

Good is an overstatement, but Dean understands the lie. He reaches across the table to take Castiel’s hand in his.

“Oh my god, Cassie. We thought you were dead. I never thought…” Gabriel voice clogs, thick with emotion. “We thought you were dead.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas mutters, tears beginning to fall.

“Hey,” Dean says softly as he squeezes Cas’s hand.

“Who was that?” Gabriel asks sharply, worry coloring his tone.

“I, uh, I’m Dean. Cas’s….” Dean starts but glances at Cas for guidance.

“Dean’s my boyfriend.” Cas squeezes his hand comfortingly. “He, uh, convinced me to reach out.”

“Uh-huh.” Gabriel lets out a heavy breath. “So, San Francisco.” A heavy pause follows and Cas nods, forgetting for a moment that his brother can’t see him through the phone. “I’m coming to see you.”

“What?” Cas gapes and his eyes widen in mild horror.

“Don’t you dare argue, Cassie. I’ve spent the last five years thinking you were dead, I _need_ to see you.” Gabriel’s tone bites but Dean is big brother enough to recognize the note of fear lingering behind his apparent anger.

Cas swallows hard and nods before remembering that he needs to speak as Dean reaches for his hand. “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

Gabriel snorts and Dean shakes his head. He knows all too well how he would feel if Sam had been the one to disappear and then call out of the blue years later.

He’d be on the very next plane to wherever Sam was.

He would need an entire bottle of tranquilizers to survive the flight, but he would do whatever it took.

“I don’t care,” Gabriel says. “I can be there tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Cas squeaks, panic coloring his tone. “Gabe, I, tomorrow isn’t good.” He looks to Dean with wide eyes.

“It’ll be fine, Cas,” Dean whispers.

Cas licks his lips and nods with a hard swallow. “Okay.”

“Good,” Gabriel sighs. “Dammit, Cassie. I can’t believe you’re…” he trails off with a sniffle. “You just disappeared without a word. We thought… we searched for over a year. Mother even hired a private investigator but all we could find is that you were hospitalized and then kicked out of school.”

Cas’s eyes slide closed and he nods. “I screwed up.”

“What happened?” Gabriel stresses, begging and Cas launches into the tale Dean has already heard, edited of some of the more incriminating details.

Cas talks about his experiment with drugs, his illness, and the bills that sent him running after the university took away his scholarships. All things Dean has heard already, but that doesn’t stop his stomach from twisting into knots as Cas describes his forced stay in rehab and how Meg found him afterward.

“I was so ashamed, I couldn’t face you after what I’d done,” Cas all but cries into the phone, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he explains how they ended up in California and the struggles he’s been facing to get his feet underneath him. “I… I was hoping you might be able to help.”

“Anything, little brother,” Gabriel says eagerly with honesty flooding his tone. “What do you need?”

Cas takes a deep breath and Dean nods for him to continue while biting his tongue to keep his mouth shut. “My ID is expired and I don’t have my social security card to get a new one. Do you know if mother still has it?”

Gabe takes his time answering and a sense of foreboding fills Dean’s gut as they wait. “Mother, um, shit,” Gabriel says and Castiel’s eyes widen in worry at the broken confidence of Gabriel’s voice. “She, she’s gone, Cassie. There was a drunk driver and…”

Cas’s face crumples and he shakes his head. “How long ago?”

Gabriel sighs. “Three years.”

“Fuck,” Cas spits the curse as he drops his head into his hands. “What else have I missed?”

“Dad retired after losing Mom. He regrets what happened with you, refused to give up hope. I’m sure he still has your documents, he’s going to be thrilled to hear you’re okay…”

Castiel winces and shakes his head. “Please don’t tell him anything. At least not yet, I’m not…” He trails off and takes a deep breath. “I haven’t spoken to him in over a decade, Gabe, I can’t just pretend the past didn’t happen.”

Dean scoots forward and squeezes Cas’s shoulder. He understands all too well about the complicated feelings that go along with an abusive parent. His own failings aside, he won’t try to convince Cas to make amends before he’s ready.

But the fact that Cas’ father might be willing to try makes his stomach clench excitedly.

“I understand that, but…” Gabriel starts but Cas cuts him off.

“No buts, Gabriel. I can’t deal with him right now.” Cas glares at his phone while leaning into Dean’s touch.

“Okay, okay. I’ll make up some excuse, but please, Cassie. Think about it. Even Michael says he misses you and regrets what happened.”

Cas’s jaw drops and his brow furrows as he shakes his head. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. I think losing mom so suddenly knocked some sense into them, realizing how important family is. The fact that I came out as Pansexual probably didn’t hurt.”

“You’re pan?” Cas looks to Dean with a hint of a smile curling at his lips.

“Yep,” Gabriel says, popping the P for emphasis. “Really threw Dad and Mike for a loop when I showed up to family dinner with a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend.”

“You…” Cas says with a sputtering laugh. “I would have loved to see their faces.”

Gabriel laughs, full and bright. “I thought Raph was going to have a coronary. It was a good thing my ex enjoyed making people uncomfortable, he had a lot of fun needling everyone before Dad laid down the law and demanded peace.”

Cas huffs a laugh and shakes his head as he listens to Gabriel update him on everything he’s missed while offering very little in return.

Dean’s throat feels tight as their conversation continues and fights against his own tears when they fall into a pattern of familiar brotherly teasing. Hearing the fear in Castiel’s voice slowly diminish, replaced by laughter as Gabriel’s tone shifts to grateful wonder has Dean excusing himself with a kiss to Cas’s brow and a quiet promise to make them some lunch while they talk.

Cas spends another half hour on the phone while Dean busies himself in the kitchen making sandwiches with anything he can find. He isn’t particularly hungry, but nervous energy is skittering through his veins fast enough to make his stomach tremble. He needs to _do_ something.

Just as he’s pulling the last sandwich off the stove, warm with melted cheese and Ellen’s leftover roast beef, Cas shuffles into the kitchen with a shy smile and his phone clutched in his hand.

“Thank you,” Cas breathes out as he lets Dean fold him in his arms.

“You already did the same for me.” Dean kisses Cas’s cheek and holds him tighter.

Cas nods and Dean can feel him swallow hard against his shoulder. “Still, you didn’t have to…”

“I did,” Dean pulls back and cups Castiel’s cheeks to direct his gaze. He stares into Castiel’s deep blue eyes, unblinking, and does his best not to shrink away from the depths staring back at him. “You deserve good things.” He kisses Cas’s brow before finally releasing him when the lump in his throat reminds him that this is dangerously approaching a chick-flick moment.

He clears his throat and shakes off the rising itch under his skin. “I, uh, made sandwiches.”

“They look wonderful, thank you,” Cas says with a shy smile, staring at Dean like he knows exactly what he’s thinking and is content to let him hide behind his wall of emotional constipation.

Dean nods and holds out a plate. “So… is Gabriel still going to come?”

How that is going to work, Dean has no idea. Gabe can’t stay with Cas, hell… Dean is almost certain that Cas wants Gabriel to know as little about his life as possible.

Cas nods as he settles at the table. “He’s going to try to find my papers, might take a few days. He said he’ll call before he buys a plane ticket.”

“That’s awesome.” Dean drops his gaze to his sandwich as he settles into his chair.

“Dean.” Cas reaches across the table and takes Dean’s hand. Dean looks up and flinches a smile. “Do you think you can help me with one more thing?”

Dean nods. “Anything.”

Castiel’s responding smile is bright enough to light up the darkest night. “Will you help me find a job?”

“Yeah?” Dean is sure his grin could blind someone but he doesn’t care when Cas nods shyly. “Hell yes,” he declares, full to bursting with pride and excitement when Cas finally meets his gaze and smiles brightly.

For the first time in a long time, he can see a future ahead of him that has potential and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he has a chance at finding the type of happiness he thought was only reserved for a select few lucky enough to live a charmed life.

Not some washed-up alcoholic working his fingers to the bone just to keep a toehold on his sobriety. But, with Cas smiling at him like that, hand warm in his, he thinks that maybe he finally has something worth holding onto.

\---- Monday ---

“Meg?” Cas calls as he shoulders his way through the door with Dean trailing close behind. “Would it have killed you to answer your damned phone?!”

Dean closes the door behind him, holding the still full bag of leftovers as Cas works his way to the bedrooms.

Meg must be taking a nap. She hasn’t been feeling well, he knows that, but her silence over the last two days has been deafening and his stomach twists anxiously as he approaches her closed bedroom door.

He can hear Dean shuffling around in the kitchen, putting things away, as he lifts his hand to knock on Meg’s door.

“Uh, Cas?” Dean’s voice calls from the kitchen and his hand falls as his head turns. “Come here a minute?”

“What is it?” Cas questions as he rounds the corner of the short hall to see what has Dean sounding so unsure.

“Is this what it looks like?” Dean holds up a rubber tourniquet as he gestures into the sink.

Cas’s breath seizes when he notices the used needle on the floor and the lighter discarded on the counter. “Shit.”

He can’t spin fast enough and he sprints to Meg’s door in a few easy strides that leave his heart hammering wildly. She hasn’t used in years, he never thought…. “Meg!” He pounds his fist roughly on her door, no longer caring if she’s asleep or not.

He doesn’t wait for a response, his hand is on the doorknob before Dean catches up to him.

“Cas, hold on a sec,” Dean pleads but Cas shakes his head, the ringing in his ears drowning out all sense of what Dean is trying to tell him.

He barges through the door, legs trembling and vision flashing black and red as his gaze lands on Meg’s sleeping form.

She must be stoned out of her mind to sleep through the shouting and the banging.

“Meg,” Cas demands as he stomps toward the bed. “You’re using?!”

“Cas,” Dean’s voice comes from behind him and then an arm wraps around his waist. “Cas, come on, you shouldn’t be here.”

“Meg!” Cas screams, struggling against Dean’s hold when he catches a glimpse of another needle still hanging from her pale arm. “Let me go!” He thrashes and shouts but Dean’s arms may as well be iron bands as he’s pulled from the room. “No!” He shouts over and over again until the burnt popcorn asshole comes pounding on the door, yelling at him to shut up.

“Cas, stay here.” Dean pushes him onto the ratty couch and he immediately lurches forward, ignoring his neighbor and ignoring Dean’s demands. “Dammit, Cas!” Dean barks and Cas flinches but he refuses to be deterred.

He’s back to Meg’s side before Dean can stop him.

Her hand is cold, her chest too still and her brown eyes stare blindly into oblivion. “Meg, come on,” Cas pleads, tears streaming from his eyes as he rips the needle from her arm and shakes her shoulders violently. “Meg!”

“We just found her, I think she overdosed,” Dean says behind him, talking into the phone but Cas can’t be bothered to tell him that he’s wrong. Meg will be fine. They just need to warm her up and get her to a doctor. “Yeah, I’ll stay on the line.”

“You idiot!” Cas yells, shaking her shoulders again before slapping at her cheeks, trying to wake her.

Her head lolls on her shoulders, turning her unseeing eyes toward Dean as bile forces its way into his mouth. “No no no no no,” Cas rambles as he feels for his pulse. “Come on, Meg, wake up. You have to wake up.” His tears are coming now, the truth he refuses to acknowledge growing too large to ignore.

“Cas, babe, come on. Let’s go sit and wait for the police,” Dean whispers reassuringly, the phone still pressed to one ear as he grasps Cas’s elbow.

“No,” Cas cries and shakes his head. “I can’t leave her.”

He’s barely conscious of Dean crouching beside him and wrapping an arm around his waist.

Minutes or hours pass, Cas can’t tell with Dean muttering soothing sounds and occasionally speaking to someone on the other end of the line.

Meg still doesn’t move.

Eventually, Dean pushes to his feet and disappears from the room and when he comes back, he’s followed by a pair of men with a stretcher that barely fits through the door. “Cas, come on, we need to give them space.”

“No!” Cas doubles down, clinging to Meg’s icy hand even as Dean tries to lift him.

Dean’s far stronger, but Cas is determined.

“Hey, buddy, we can’t help her unless you give us some room, okay?” one of the men with the stretcher reaches a hand toward Cas that has him recoiling into Dean’s arms.

“Help her. Please,” he finally chokes out even though he knows, deep down, what's happening. He can’t lose her like this. She deserves so much better. He deserves so much better.

His fingers dig into Dean’s shirt as Dean all but scoops him off his feet and carries him to the living room. He can’t be bothered by something as trifling as walking. Not when his best friend is laying in her bed with strange men working over her.

By the time they reach the couch, heavy sobs pour from his chest and he buries his nose against Dean’s shirt as his tears soak the thin material.

Time passes, he’s sure of it, but he couldn’t tell you how much. He’s barely conscious of people in uniform coming and going, bagging things from the kitchen and taking them away. Of the stretcher leaving, much heavier than when it came.

Everything reduces to a dull haze where nothing matters because nothing is real.

“Excuse me, Dean Winchester?” A voice comes from above them, soft and contrite.

Dean looks up at the woman too, a blonde police officer in a neat blue uniform with a smile that would be disarming if there weren’t so much sadness behind it.

Good. She should be sad.

“I,” Dean starts before coughing to clear his throat. “I’m Dean Winchester.”

“I’m officer Hanscum, but please, call me Donna. I’d like to ask you a few questions if that’s alright?” She asks, gaze soft with an understanding that Cas absolutely hates when Dean nods. “You’re the ones who found the… her. You two found her?”

“Yeah,” Dean says as he frees an arm from Cas’s grasp to scrub a hand over his face. “We spent the weekend at my place…”

Cas tunes them out. He can’t talk about this. About Meg.

He _can’t._

Cas is marginally aware of the police leaving, of Dean going into his room and stuffing as many clothes as will fit inside his ratty duffle bag.

Dean goes and comes back.

Cas doesn’t move.

He can’t bring himself to leave the couch, to get ready for work.

What does any of that matter?

Somehow, he finds himself being poured into the passenger seat next to Dean and then guided up the stairs to Dean’s apartment over the garage.

He’s undressed and tucked into a wonderfully soft bed.

He may as well be a puppet to Dean’s ministrations, but he goes easily when Dean climbs in beside him and draws Cas to his broad chest.

He’s sure Dean is saying something, he can feel the rumble of his chest vibrating, but it doesn’t matter. Not with this throb of all-consuming pain coursing through him.

His tears fall silently until there is nothing left to fall.

All the while Dean holds him close, the anchor keeping him from crumbling completely as his heart wrestles with what his mind knows to be true.

When he finally drifts into an exhausted slumber, the vision dancing behind his eyes is of long, dark locks curled loosely and framing a pale face. Cherry red lips stretch into the sultry grin that meant home for so long and a bright laugh fills his ears, full of happiness he hasn’t heard in so long he had almost forgotten what it sounded like.

Even in his troubled sleep, his heart aches with the promise that he’ll never let himself forget.


	13. The Day that is Just Too Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas isn't quite himself, reeling from Meg's death and full of conflicting emotions. Unfortunately, his irrational anger gets the better of him and he does something he's sure he can't be forgiven for. And that isn't even the worst of it.
> 
> But sometimes, things need to hit rock bottom before they can get better.

One day blurs into the next, everything feels wrong now, and Cas can’t shake the numbness that comes along with knowing that his best friend is gone. He should have known that something wasn’t right.

Meg was being too open, too honest.

He should have known.

Dean goes to work and comes back with Cas barely climbing out of bed in between. He should get up and go home, go to work. He’s going to lose his apartment if he doesn’t make enough to pay the rent.

He can’t let that happen, Meg needs… he sucks in a deep breath and blinks back tears.

Meg doesn’t need anything anymore.

The apartment doesn’t matter.

\---

Food appears in front of him three times a day but Cas barely picks at it.

The steak Dean cooks on Wednesday reminds him of Meg’s favorite meal and he swallows more tears than food that night.

The carrots placed in front of him on Thursday remind him of the orange underwear Meg always insisted on gifting him for Christmas. For luck.

He might never wear another color underwear again.

Dean makes grilled cheese sandwiches on Friday and Cas can’t even look at them without feeling sick.

Saturday brings Ellen with her hands on her hips and a giant bowl of chicken soup. He isn’t allowed to leave the table until he finishes and the hot, salty, broth does leave him feeling a little bit better.

Finally, on Monday, he stuffs himself into his best pair of jeans and a pair of Dean’s comfiest shoes to go down to the hospital so he can sign away Meg’s body to the county for cremation.

He can’t afford to bury her himself.

Afterward, Dean takes him to In-n-Out and they eat until Cas feels like he’s going to puke. Then they order milkshakes.

Strawberry.

Dean makes a toast to Meg and the laugh he pulls out of Cas makes him feel a little bit more human.

Later that night, he doesn’t have the heart to protest when Dean kisses his brow and tells him that he and his family will pay to claim her ashes. Burrowing into Dean’s embrace uses all the energy he has left anyway.

\---

“Dean?” Cas inches into Dean’s living room almost a week and a half after _Meg_ , as he’s come to think of that horrible Monday. He wrings his hands, stomach quivering with nerves.

Dean looks up from the book he’s reading with a soft smile. “You’re awake,” he says, the words sounding somewhere between amazed and relieved.

Cas hates it.

He nods anyway, barely risking a glance into Dean’s gaze. “I need to go home.”

Dean’s brows pinch and he shakes his head. “You can stay here as long as you want.”

Cas shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “I… thank you for letting me stay here, but I can’t… I need to go to work.”

The words sound weak even to him. He doesn’t want to go back to the streets, he doesn’t want anyone but Dean to fuck him, but he needs the money. He can’t leech off of Dean like this.

Dean shakes his head again and Cas can see the cloud that crosses Dean’s expression before he shoves it back. “You don’t need to, babe. Your brother will be here soon, and then we can try to find a real job for you…”

Cas’s shoulders pull back and his jaw tightens. “I don’t need your charity.”

“It’s not charity,” Dean sets his book aside and leans forward on the couch. “We talked about this… I just don’t want you to…”

“Don’t want me to sell myself? Be a whore? It’s not up to you, Dean!” Cas shouts, anger flooding his system. He knows he isn’t being fair but rage boils in his veins, demanding an exit and Dean is the only target available. “I’m leaving.” He spins on his heel and goes into Dean’s bedroom where he haphazardly shoves his clothes into his duffle.

His stomach threatens to empty as his words replay in his mind. He’s wrong. He knows he is. Dean has been nothing but supportive. It’s the grief talking, he knows that.

“Cas, please.” Dean follows him.

Unfortunately, knowing isn’t enough. “No, Dean. Thank you for taking care of me,” Cas forces himself to say as softly as he can manage around the fire in his heart. “But it’s time I go home. I can take care of myself.”

Dean frowns and shakes his head. “I can’t let you leave.”

“Excuse me?!” Cas spins with a glare, duffle in one hand, and the other balled into a fist at his side. “You are not my keeper!”

Dean holds up his hands placatingly. “You’re upset, I understand that, but pushing me away and isolating yourself isn’t going to help.” He takes a step forward and reaches out as if to take the bag from Cas’s hand.

His vision flashes black and his fist swings before he can stop himself.

Dean staggers back with a hand on his jaw and ice in his eyes. Cas gapes and his heart hammers as his anger turns into nausea. “I can’t stay here.” His voice is weak, and he wants little more than to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness, the watery green eyes staring at him hurt far more than the sting in his knuckles.

Dean shakes his head. “Fine. Go,” he bites, and Cas swears his voice is thicker than normal but Dean stands aside and gestures toward the door with a sweep of his hand. “I ain’t gonna stop you.”

Cas sucks in a heavy breath as his eyes start to burn. Dean is done with him, he’s sure of it.

He never deserved someone like Dean anyway.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters as he hurries past and slips out the door with his back on his shoulder.

He looks back over his shoulder a few times as he walks the first half dozen blocks, hoping to see Baby turning the corner to come after him but she never appears.

He’s all alone.

The story of his life.

Over an hour later, he’s pushing through the door to his apartment for the first time in a week and he goes straight to his lumpy mattress on the floor.

Only when he drops his bag does he notice that he’s still wearing Dean’s slippers.

The sobs that erupt force him to his knees and keep him down until the morning sun filters through the thin sheet covering his window.

Thursday.

He glances at his phone and sees that it’s barely past ten in the morning, too late to sleep more and too early to do anything.

Secondarily, he notices there aren’t any new messages from Dean.

He rolls over and buries his head in his pillow, heart aching with regret and despair.

Eventually, he pries himself from the bed and stumbles into the kitchen where he eyes the full trash with disdain. That explains the smell, at least.

He bundles up the bag, ignoring the needle sitting on top where Dean must have tossed it, and hauls it down the stairs and to the dumpster. Absently, he wonders why the police didn’t take the evidence of drugs before remembering that they don’t care about people like them. Somewhere down at the precinct, Meg’s death has been reduced to a number that probably doesn’t even have its own paper file anymore. She’s nothing but a digital ghost in some database and a sad statistic that parents everywhere will warn their children not to become.

“Novak!” a gruff voice calls and he turns to see Zachariah, the slum Lord that owns his building.

He bites his lip and nods in acknowledgment as he turns to face the balding, middle-aged man. “Hello, sir,” he mutters, immediately regretting his choice of honorific when the man puffs up to his full height with a glint in his eye that Cas would recognize anywhere.

Zachariah’s teeth gleam, sharp and dangerous as he contorts his mouth into something that would be a smile on anyone else. On this man though, the show of teeth and upturned lips is a threat that has dread building low in Cas's gut. “It's good to see you. After all that drama with the police last week, I thought maybe you were going to skip out on your rent.”

Cas shakes his head. “No, I just… I was staying with a friend.”

Uriel nods but the gesture is cold rather than understanding. “I heard your little crack whore finally OD'd. To tell the truth, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner…”

Cas barely holds back a snarl. “Do not talk about Meg like that.”

Zachariah huffs. “Who are you trying to kid? Huh? As long as you pay the rent, I don't care how you whores come up with the money.” He steps into Castiel’s space and jams a finger into his chest. “What I don't appreciate, is the police being in my building to clean up your mess!”

Cas sucks in a sharp breath and stumbles backward.

“Make sure the rent is on time, Novak, or else it’s coming out of your skinny little ass.” Zachariah crowds into his space and Cas backs away, shaking his head as the brick wall becomes solid at his back.

“I'll have your money.” Cas clenches his jaw and forces himself to meet Zachariah’s dark gaze. “Just like always.”

Zachariah smiles and reaches forward to smooth Cas's tee over his shoulders.

Cas feels his stomach clench and threatens revolt at the touch but he holds his ground.

“Good boy,” Zachariah says lightly and pats Cas's cheek. “I knew I could count on you.” He strides away, leaving Cas nearly trembling in his wake as he gathers himself to brave the trek back up the stairs.

He’s never appreciated the way their landlord leered at Meg, but he’s never been so brazen to harass either of them in broad daylight.

By the time he’s reached his apartment, his hands are all but vibrating as he struggles to swallow.

Watching television is out of the question.

He glances at his phone, still nothing from Dean. His heart sinks and he considers reaching out but ultimately decides against it.

He needs time, and after he _hit_ Dean, it’s best if he just stays gone.

Dean can do so much better.

With that thought, Cas starts cleaning.

His first stop is to close the door to Meg’s room. He isn’t ready to revisit that nightmare.

He might never be.

For now, the rest of the apartment is fair game.

Hours tick by with him lost in his task. The kitchen floor is scrubbed cleaner than he’s ever seen it, so is his bathtub and every other surface in the tiny space.

He even borrows a vacuum from the popcorn fiend down the hall.

By the time the sun has long since set, the fumes of cheap cleaners have his head spinning and he can’t sit still. He hasn’t worked in over a week and it’s Thursday, which means Mick should stop by.

At least that is one customer who will pay him decently.

He chews his lip and considers his options. The thought of bending over for anyone tonight makes his stomach churn but his wallet mocks him and Zachariah’s threat looms.

He has to.

With that in mind, he forces himself into his tight jeans and skimpy shirt, this one so thin that it’s see-through in the right light. He even lines his eyes with the kohl that Meg insisted would highlight his best feature and spikes his hair wildly.

He thinks it just makes him look Goth, but he isn’t going to argue with the ghost in his head.

Meg always did know what sold the best.

With one last look in the mirror, he pulls in a deep breath through his nose and nods once with determination.

He can do this.

The walk to his alley hasn’t changed in the last two weeks, despite his entire life upending and Missy’s coffee shop is as warm and inviting as ever.

He can’t resist stopping in to say hello, maybe buy one the cheap cups of coffee he hasn’t had in weeks.

He would splurge for more, but he knows he shouldn’t no matter what Meg would have told him.

The bell tinkles overhead when he pushes through the door and Missy turns her attention toward the newest customer, eyes lighting up when they land on him.

“Castiel!” She cries out and hurries around the counter, all but throwing herself at him with a crushing embrace.

He coughs out the first laugh he’s managed in days and sways with her until he hurriedly pulls back with an apology on her lips.

He shakes his head with a soft smile. “It’s okay, I probably needed that.”

She stares at him, scanning from head to toe without blinking. “Where have you been? I thought you ran off with that hottie I hooked you up with.” She smacks his arm playfully but looks through him toward the back of the small coffee shop.

Cas glances that way, noting a customer slowly stirring his cup while reading what looks to be a beat-up old paperback. “I, uh, my roommate died. I’ve been staying with Dean.” He rubs the back of his neck nervously.

Missy’s eyes go wide and she covers her mouth. “Oh my god, Cas!” She whines, low and pitiful before wrapping him in her arms again. “I’m so sorry.”

He bites back the _it’s okay_ threatening to tumble from his lips and mutters a simple thank you instead. He isn’t okay. He won’t be for a long time and no one in their right mind would believe he was.

“Come on, let me make you a drink, on the house,” she pulls back with a gentle smile. “Tell me about him while you wait.”

Cas takes a shuddering breath and closes his eyes. “Her, Meg. She’s my best friend, I…”

“It’s okay, that was stupid of me. Tell me about something else, about Dean?” Missy shakes her head as she packs some espresso and Cas leans his hip against the counter with a huff.

“I screwed that up too, he isn’t talking to me.” He barely registers footsteps approaching but he steps aside reflexively.

“Hey, sweet cheeks. Stop chattin with this faggot and refill my coffee,” the man grumbles and Cas glares at him with narrowed eyes. He’s a scarce bit taller than Cas, looking windblown and ragged with his unkempt blond hair and scraggly scruff that obscures his hazy looking blue eyes. “What you lookin at? Huh?” The man prods with a sneer.

Cas’s brows furrow and he shakes his head. “Nothing worth my time,” he spits, refusing to back down even as his hand slowly drifts toward his trusty pocketknife.

The man grunts and turns back to Missy, tapping his fingertips on the counter as she plasters on a patented customer service smile that would be enough to chill any man’s blood if they had any sense. “Of course,” she says woodenly and reaches for the pot on the back warmer and fills his cup.

The man smirks as he takes it back. “Thanks, Darlin.” His gaze lingers on Cas for a beat too long before he winks and saunters back to his seat.

Cas’s eyes follow for a moment, watching the self-assured sway of the man’s hips and doing his best not to react. He isn’t a hot-headed kid anymore but he’s had _enough_ for one week and a fight wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world for his anger.

Missy’s hand reaching for him across the counter catches his attention and he turns his attention back to his friend with a hard swallow. “Ass,” Cas grumbles under his breath bitterly as he shakes off the need to confront the dick in the back of the store.

No good could come of it.

Missy blows out through pursed lips, ruffling her long bangs that had fallen onto her cheek. “Tell me about it. Next semester, I am NOT working the closing shift,” she says as she points toward Cas. “Gonna miss seeing you, though.”

Cas feels his cheeks heat and he looks down at the counter. With any luck, he won’t be working the streets by then so the point would be moot, but he can’t count on anything. “I’ll miss you too.” He flinches a smile when he looks up.

“You should give me your number, we could hang out.” Missy turns to finish making his drink and Cas flushes.

“You…but you don’t know anything about me.” She must be simply being nice, he thinks as he shakes his head. There is no way a bright young woman who makes the Dean’s list in college would be interested in hanging out with a nobody like him.

She turns back to him with a steaming paper mug in hand. “I know you’re kind, soft-spoken, and easy to make blush.” She carefully snaps a lid on the cup and pushes it across the counter. “You have some struggles with your self-esteem, financial troubles too I’m guessing, and your work…well, you’ve always been tight-lipped about that but your clothes and eye make-up...” She looks at him sideways, choosing her words carefully. “Look, Cas, I’m not an idiot. I’m pretty sure I know what you do and it’s _okay._ I’m not going to think less of you for…”

Cas sucks in a sharp breath and shakes his head to cut her off, leaving the cup on the counter. “I work at the gas-n-sip.”

Missy huffs and rolls her eyes. “That’s your story and you’re sticking to it, huh?” She grabs a rag and starts wiping the counter. “It’s mocha with a touch of cinnamon tonight. Comfort coffee.” She nods at the cup still on the counter and Cas flushes crimson.

“Thanks,” he mutters, barely able to force himself to meet her eyes. “I’m going to be late.”

“Hey, I still want your number,” Missy blurts before shaking her head and reaching for the cleaning rag. “I mean, you don’t have to give it to me, but I’d really…”

Cas dips his chin and smiles shyly. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Missy repeats with a slow grin.

Cas nods once, lips pinched at the corners in a smile as Missy reaches for her phone. He waits for her to give him the okay to continue before rattling off his phone number. “You can call me any time, but I mostly sleep during the day.” He bites his lip to fight back the creeping warmth growing in his cheeks.

She knows, and she still wants to be his friend.

People will never cease to amaze him.

“Awesome.” She grins as she types and Cas soon feels his pocket buzz with an incoming text. “Now you have my number too.”

“Thank you, Missy.” He smiles softly, insides fluttering with warm satisfaction. “I do need to be going now.”

“Have a good night, Cas,” Missy says gently with a wave as he turns to go.

“Thanks, you too. See you tomorrow?” He asks, suddenly needing the extra validation that there is someone in the world who wants to see him. He’s destroyed whatever chance he had with Dean, but that doesn’t mean he can’t embrace Missy’s offer of friendship.

She’s sweet, safe.

Someone he can smile with and not feel pressured by.

The coffee is a plus, but he isn’t going to count that.

“I’ll be here.” Missy waves and Cas spares one last glance at the man in the back of the shop before pushing the door.

The tinkling on the bell follows him out but the hairs on the back of his neck prickle with the feeling of being watched as he makes his way down the sidewalk. He’s met enough homophobic dickbags in his time, but they still never fail to set him on edge and he glances over his shoulder a few times to make sure he isn’t being followed.

He wouldn’t put it past the creep inside to try and cause him some trouble.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone took it upon themselves to try to teach the queer a lesson and it wouldn’t be the first time he’s had to do a little teaching of his own.

Tonight, he’d almost welcome the conflict.

He sips his coffee as he walks, letting out a heady groan as the taste of chocolate and perfectly balanced cinnamon hits his taste buds. He knows Missy is only working as a barista to get herself through college, but the girl is a master.

He’ll have to be sure to text her a compliment later, now that he has another number in his phone.

The sensation of being watched fades quickly and by the time he reaches his little spot of business, he’s practicing his breathing and preparing his mind for the night ahead.

He can do this.

He bounces on the balls of his feet as he finishes his coffee and watches. It’s still a little early for Mick, but he can’t deny that some sick part of him is looking forward to seeing the man tonight.

If nothing else, he _knows_ what to expect with Mick. He’ll simply let his pants fall down his thighs and bend over just enough to brace himself on the wall.

Nothing to it.

His stomach gives an unhappy twist and Cas frowns, shaking off the feeling as he stares at the grimy concrete. He can’t afford to get squeamish now.

He needs the money too much.

Minutes pass and he’s in the process of tossing his now empty coffee cup into the dumpster at the back of the alley when headlights sweep across the building across from him and the sound of tires rolling slowly over asphalt catch his attention.

His stomach swoops as he sweeps his hands down his chest to check for coffee drips, not that there would be anything to do for it now. Shirt discovered to be clean, he takes a moment to close his eyes and pull in a deep breath to settle the nerves that refuse to quiet.

He’s done this hundreds of times.

No big deal.

He can do this.

With a hard swallow and a determined nod, he steps forward with his chin held high.

He’ll fake it till me makes it and the happy smile he gives the man climbing out of the car should be convincing enough.

“Steve,” Mick says warmly. “I missed you last week.” He steps forward, reaching out to touch Cas’s hip before remembering himself and tucking his hand into his pocket.

Cas follows his aborted attempt at touching him with his eyes, swallowing down a small sense of surprise.

As many times as Mick has fucked him, he still minds the feeble boundaries that grant Cas a sense of dignity and he’s glad for it.

Mick is a good man, of that he has no doubt.

He chews his lip as he takes in Mick’s sad blue eyes, as if he really did miss more than just a hole to fuck. “I, uh, family emergency.” He shrugs off the urge to tell the truth but Mick isn’t here for his sob story. He’ll do well to remember that.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Is everything okay now?” Mick asks, his gaze so damned earnest that the breath hitches in Cas’s chest as he instinctively shakes his head.

“My best friend died,” he admits, chewing his lip as he drops his gaze.

Mick gasps and steps forward, his hand connecting this time as he lays his open palm on Cas’s shoulder. His eyes dance back and forth, searching Cas’s expression with startling intensity. “I’m so sorry, Steve. Is there anything I can do?” His gaze doesn’t waver and Cas swallows hard around the lump in his throat.

Cas fights not to pull away from the touch even as his vision starts to grow watery, he’s better off letting Mick think his hand is welcome and he has to fight back a manic laugh at the thought. Maybe Mick will pay more if he pities him.

_Fuck._

“I’m fine,” Cas says with a lukewarm smile as he shakes his head to clear his mind before he loses his composure. This was a mistake. Coming here was a mistake. He isn’t ready and now he’s stuck.

“Do uh, would you maybe want to just go get dinner instead of… the usual? You look like you could use a friend.” Mick squeezes his shoulder and releases him when Cas tilts his chin upward to stare in shock.

Cas shakes his head with a sniff. “I’m fine,” he mutters, painting on his most seductive smile. “What I could really use is a good fuck.”

He hates the words as they pass his lips, shallow and sordid. They’re as much of a lie as anything else he’s ever told a client but something about tonight makes the words sour as they form in his throat.

Mick visibly shudders at Castiel’s words, eyes widening and darkening at the same time. “I believe I can give you that.” He’s already reaching for his wallet and Castiel’s chest expands with dreadful anticipation.

“Then let's go, big boy,” Cas simpers as he closes the distance between them and runs his fingers up Mick’s chest until they’re toying with the top button of his crisp collared shirt.

“How much to let me kiss you?” Mick whispers, chin tilted toward Cas close enough for his warm breath to ghost over Castiel’s lips, very nearly touching but maintaining that sliver of a boundary. Waiting.

Cas’s heart pounds in his chest and he can’t help the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

Mick’s gaze follows the flash of tongue, tempted for reasons Cas doesn’t want to understand. Mick seems like a good guy, why he’s paying for Cas every week doesn’t make sense.

Unless he has a wife at home, a family like so many of his johns, sneaking around in the shadows to fulfill the desires they never could quite extinguish.

Cas leans back just enough to show off the way he tilts his head and considers Mick’s offer.

He’s never kissed a client, never wanted to and he still doesn’t. No kissing is one of his most important rules. Kissing brings emotions and that just gets messy. Johns forget their place and think they have a right to touch him for free.

No.

No kissing.

Mind made up, Cas steps forward and runs a single finger over his lips, just for show. “Oh darling, you can’t afford that particular pleasure,” he purrs with a faint smirk. What the hell is he doing? His heart hammers and his mind screeches at him to stop this game.

Those are not the words he was supposed to say.

He shouldn’t be tempting the man.

Mick clears his throat and sucks in a sharp breath through his nose. “Five hundred.”

Cas’s head jerk back and his brows furrow as he stares at the utterly insane man in front of him. $500 for a kiss? He’s lost his damn mind. “That’s a lot of money.”

Mick shakes his head. “It’s nothing. You’re gorgeous Steve, if I thought you’d accept, I’d offer to take you home and make sure you never want for anything as long as you’d have me, but as little as I know about you, I’m pretty sure I know how nicely you’d reject me.” He steps forward and daringly takes one of Castiel’s hands in his own. “Whatever the price to pay to finally taste those lips of yours, I’ll gladly pay it.”

Five hundred dollars would cover what he still needs for the rent and have enough left over to buy groceries.

He chews his lip, tempted.

“$600,” Mick says, rubbing the pad of his thumb against the back of Castiel’s hand.

“Why?” Cas swallows hard. “Why would you pay so much?” He’s been startled out of his usual act, the man Mick sees right now is the closest to _Cas_ that a customer has ever seen.

And he can’t find it in himself to care right now.

He needs to know. It’s obvious that Mick already has some attachment to him and Cas really needs to stop encouraging him, but the money…

Fuck.

“You’re worth it,” Mick answers quickly. Too quickly.

“No one is worth that much.” Dammit, why is he arguing? He should just take the money and kiss the man. If he kisses like he fucks, Cas doubts it will be horrible.

Mick flinches a smile and shrugs as he drops Cas’s hand. “I disagree, but I’m not going to keep trying to make you do something you don’t want. I understand…”

“Okay.” Cas swallows hard. “I’ll do it.”

Really, could a few kisses be any worse than acting out the fantasies some of his clients bring him?

Mick’s half-smile widens and he gestures toward the car. “Backseat?”

Cas sucks in a shaky breath and nods. “Money first.” He needs to keep some wits about him.

“Of course,” Mick says as he reaches for his wallet and counts out way more money than the average person should carry on them.

Cas takes the bills cautiously. “You’ve never said what you do for a living,” he says, more of an observation than a question. Mick has no obligation to tell him anything, but the way the man smiles tonight has him on edge and Cas isn’t sure how to handle the bubble of worry forming in his chest.

“I work for some very powerful people, they pay me well.” Mick tucks his wallet into his pocket and gestures to the car. “Shall we?”

Cas sucks in a breath through his nose and nods as he takes Mick’s direction. The man’s presence haunts his back and he can’t stop the shiver that shoots up his spine at the feeling, his mind and his heart endlessly conflicted over what he knows he’s about to do.

He doesn’t have a choice.

It’s either this or be evicted.

Knowing what little he does about his landlord, he doubts a simple eviction would be Zachariah’s style. He’s heard enough whispers about the slum lord’s side projects that he would be willing to bet the wad of bills freshly tucked in his pocket that being evicted would seem like a dream compared to what Zachariah might have planned.

Another shiver passes through him at the thought and his steps quicken until he’s shoulder to shoulder with Mick. He pulls in a steadying breath through his nose and smothers his nerves as he looks to the side with a sultry smirk that has Mick stopping in his tracks.

“Please let me take you somewhere with a proper bed,” Mick murmurs as he strokes his fingertips down Castiel’s cheek. “You would love my apartment, I’m sure of it. I’ve got the best mattress money can buy.”

Cas doubts that very much but he nuzzles into the touch with a hum, pretending to consider. “Sorry, darlin.” He shakes his head but leans close enough that his breath tickles over Mick’s lips as he reaches for his belt.

“What would it take to convince you?” Mick whispers as he leans closer and Cas’s heart flutters anxiously.

He bites his lip and pulls back with a smirk as he shakes his head. “I can’t. Non-negotiable.” Maybe if Mick showed interest in something other than his body he would have considered once upon a time, but now? Just doing his _job_ makes his stomach squirm with the miserable sense of betrayal.

The thought of spending more than a few minutes with any of his clients is more than he thinks he can handle.

Mick strokes gentle fingers over his jaw before leaning in to brush their lips together ever so gently. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Cas hums, pretending that bile isn’t rising in his throat and that his heart isn’t hammering with the need to turn away. Instead, he leans closer to claim Mick’s lips in the most pained kiss he’s ever endured.

Mick guides him backward as he deepens the kiss until Cas is pressed against the warm metal of the car. His lips taste of stale menthol, sweet and cloying enough to make Cas whine low in his throat as Mick licks inside his mouth.

His fingers clench on Mick’s hips as his mind races and he pulls away with a heaving breath.

Mick stares back at him, pupils blown as he reaches around to open the door and nudge Cas into the backseat. “I trust the money I paid includes fucking you?” He murmurs in Castiel’s ear, a mockery of seduction that leaves Cas little choice but to nod.

He swallows around the lump in his throat as he reaches for the button of his jeans as Mick climbs in over him, reclaiming his lips in a searing kiss that has Cas’s stomach lurching.

His bare ass sticks to the black leather of the seats but Mick doesn’t seem to notice as he rips open a condom and settles between Cas’s spread knees. Cas bites back a whimper and his eyes water as he rucks his hands underneath Mick’s shirt to feel the toned muscle underneath.

“Ah ah, stay away from that,” Mick chides when Cas’s fingers brush over something hard and rectangular strapped just below Mick’s armpit.

His eyes widen as his mind finishes putting the pieces together.

He spent enough time at the shooting range with his father growing up that he knows the butt of a gun when he feels one.

With a racing heart, he swallows hard and shakes his head as blood runs cold and the world outside of this car and the man he’s trapped with fades. His breath comes in heaves and his eyes blow wide as he squirms to escape. “No, no no no.”

“Hey, hey, Steve, calm down. It’s okay. Not gonna hurt you,” Mick coos as he settles his weight on top of Castiel. “Not gonna hurt you.” He grips Cas’s wrist and holds him down, staring into his eyes with a soft smile. “Just breathe, sweetheart.”

Cas breathes hard through his nose, staring up at the oddly calm expression on Mick’s features and his gentle smile. His muscles coil, ready to force his way out of the car but Mick is stronger than he looks and he’s in no position to dislodge the man.

Especially not with his jeans around his ankles.

“That’s it,” he whispers and strokes light fingers through Cas’s hair when he settles.

“What do you want from me,” Cas whispers, staring at the familiar man with a sense of disbelief.

Mick smiles and strokes his hair some more. “I told you, I work for some very powerful people. This is part of that job.” He touches the bulge under his arm that Cas cannot believe he never noticed before. “It has nothing to do with you, okay, baby?”

Cas’s throat burns with bile and his heart races as he shakes his head. “Are you a cop?” he manages to croak as one terrible scenario after another flashes through his mind.

“A…?” Mick starts but breaks out laughing. “Oh, that’s good.” His laugher continues and he shakes his head as the knot in Cas’s chest starts to loosen. “No, I’m not a cop. Would a cop be paying so much just to be able to kiss you?”

To prove his point, Mick leans forward and presses their lips together, immediately prying his way into Castiel’s mouth and sweeping his tongue over Cas’s.

Cas grips Mick’s shoulders, trying not to be sick. He can do this. Just a few more minutes and then he never has to see Mick again.

He never has to see any of them again.

His eyes clench and his stomach lurches as Mick wraps a hand around his soft cock and starts to stroke.

“Now, are you okay?” Mick asks, once again the same tender man Cas has known for months and something inside him unclenches when he nods.

Just a few more minutes and this will all be over.

\---

Mick didn’t hurt him, didn’t threaten him, and by the time his car is pulling away from Cas’s little alley, everything feels like a dream.

If not for the dull ache in his ass and the stubble burn on his chin, Cas wouldn’t be sure this wasn’t some sort of fucked up nightmare.

He shakes his head and fists his hair as he swallows down a frustrated scream. The ghost of Mick’s touch lingers and his skin crawls with disgust despite the money in his pocket.

Or maybe because of the money in his pocket.

He shakes his head again and pulls in a deep breath as he forces his chin high. “I’m done,” he says to himself with a nod. “Fuck Mick, Fuck Zachariah, and Fuck this.”

He wipes some stray moisture from his eyes and his fingers come away dark with the thick liner that is sure smudged to hell now but he doesn’t care. He’s going home.

He winds his way through the dark alleys, sticking to the shadows. He’ll go back home with Gabriel is he has to, but he is not coming out here again.

Ever.

He’s done.

Finished.

There's nothing left for him here.

 _Dean_ , his mind whispers, and his heart pangs with regret. Dean was only trying to help and Cas should have let him.

Dean is good, sweet, and caring. Everything Cas wants and needs.

Now, he’s ruined their relationship before they even had a chance to get started.

Dean is better off without him.

Still, he pulls out his phone and leans against the wall of a building as he pulls up the text thread between them.

A half-smile creeps across his lips as he rereads their last exchanges and his eyes water anew.

He already misses him fiercely but he can’t quite force himself to type out of the words.

“Fuck,” he grumbles as he shoves the phone back in his pocket and forces himself to move on.

He looks to the coffee shop as he emerges from the network of back alleys, as has become his habit, and frowns as his head tilts.

Darkness.

That isn’t right.

They should be open for another hour at least. Missy never closes up early.

He walks across the street without sparing a glance for traffic and plasters his face to the glass, trying to see inside.

A dirty cup still sits on the table where that dickbag customer had been sitting and Cas’s brow furrows.

Missy would never leave a mess.

His head tilts as he makes his way to the door and tests the lock. He’s denied entry but the open sign is still flipped and he shakes his head has a fresh wave of unease rises in his gut.

Just then, a muffled cry comes from deep within the shop, and Cas moves before he can think.

The glass shatters under the rock he throws and he quickly kicks a hole large enough to crawl through as screams erupt from inside.

A deep voice yells, demanding silence and Cas barely hears the sound of a gun cocking before he’s pushing to his feet with a knife in hand.

Missy screams as she runs from the back and a shot is fired just over her shoulder, shattering the back window of the shop.

“Fucking bitch!” A voice yells as Missy ducks behind the counter and Cas lunges at the same man from earlier, catching him just below the ribs with his short blade.

Hot liquid coats his hand and the gun clatters to the floor as Missy’s sobs finally reach his ears but Cas is still moving. He stabs, again and again until the man slumps lifeless to the floor, greasy blond hair now matted with the blood pooling beneath him.

“Cas!” Missy sobs, launching herself from her hiding place to throw herself into his bloodied arms.

“Hey hey, it’s okay. You’re okay,” He coos, running his sticky fingers through her hair.

Sirens sound in the distance, racing toward them until blue and red flashing lights illuminate the small café. All the while, Missy sobs and trembles in his arms as Cas struggles to breathe.

“Hands where I can see them!” A voice barks and Cas struggles to comply as Missy wails anew.

“He tried to hurt her,” Cas says as he holds his palms open and his knife clatters to the floor. “He had a gun.” Cas swallows hard as he risks a glance at the bloodied corpse on the floor next to them.

Just then, his stomach clenches violently and he nearly chokes as the contents of his stomach force their way up and onto the floor, adding to the gory mess.

The officer staring them down tightens her hold on her weapon. “You,” She barks at Cas, eyes stern and dangerous, “On your stomach, hands behind your back.”

Cas’s heart hammers as he complies, chest squelching in the blood on the floor as he’s handcuffed and hauled to his feet.

“Miss, are you hurt?” Once Cas is being frog-marched toward the door, she finally turns to Missy and questions, staring pointedly at Missy’s ripped uniform.

“N…no,” Missy stammers as she chases after Cas. “Cas saved me.”

One officer steps forward and presses two fingers to the pulse point on the man’s throat before screaming for a medic as the man lets out a gurgling breath.

The first officer holsters her gun and offers Missy her hand. “I’m going to need you to come outside and give me a statement.”

Cas nods and swallows down the panic that continues to build. For the last several years, he has made an effort to avoid police and now it's all for nothing. He has no choice but to go with them.

He nearly murdered someone.

He murdered someone and now he’s going to go to jail.

And to think he was worried about being caught selling himself.

Prostitution is nothing compared to murder.

A manic laugh bubbles up and he can’t help the way it morphs into a sob that has Missy clinging to him despite the handcuffs.

“Miss, you swear this man came to your assistance? He was not the aggressor?” The first officer directs the question to Missy as she stands with her hands on her hips, staring at the way Missy is sobbing against Castiel’s bloodied shirt.

“Yes.” Missy nods. “If Cas hadn’t come along, that man was going to… he was…” Missy trails off with a rapid shake of her head as her fingers toy with the rip in her top that left the strap of her bra exposed.

“James, uncuff him,” The officer waves at the man holding Cas’s shoulder. “Come on you two, let's just go around back where there's more privacy,” The woman officer murmurs sympathetically once Cas is free and gently grasps his elbow to lead them around the building where the dumpster can shield them from the hoards of onlookers gathering on the street. “I’m Officer Mills. I take it you two know each other?”

Missy nods and wipes away the snot threatening to drip from her nose. “Cas is one of my best customers. He was in a couple hours ago, when that creep was there.”

“And what’s your name young lady?” Officer Mills questions as she pulls out a pad of paper.

“Melissa Andrews, ma’am.” Missy hugs her arms to her chest. “I close here four nights a week.”

“So you had a previous interaction with the victim?” The officer arches a brow and Cas glowers.

“Missy is the victim here. That asshole was hurting her.” He holds tighter to Missy’s hand as she curls into his side with a sniffle.

The officer nods and scribbles in her notebook. “And you are?”

Cas takes a deep breath and Mills arches a perfectly manicured brow at him. “Castiel. Castiel Novak.”

“And your relationship to the man inside?” Mills writes down his name and then taps her pen against her lips as Cas shakes his head.

“I never saw him before tonight.” Cas shoves his thumbs in his pockets and rocks forward on the balls of his feet. “He was here earlier when I stopped in for coffee, and the shop was dark when I was on my way home… Missy never closes before midnight. I figured something was wrong and then I heard Missy scream…”

Mills nods and writes while Cas spews his story, his words flowing profusely and increasingly panicked the longer he talks.

“…I didn’t mean to… he had a gun and Missy was… fuck,” Cas eventually trails off as tears cloud his vision and he digs the heels of his palms against his eyes.

“Hey, take a deep breath kiddo,” Officer Mills shushes him and rests a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“The vic is being taken to Central, he’s in critical condition but the medics got his bleeding under control.” Another officer stops at Mill’s side and delivers the report that nearly sends Cas crashing to his knees. “You got their statement?”

“Workin on it, Griggs,” Mills taps her pen on her notebook and gives the other officer a pointed stare.

“He…he’s not dead? I didn’t kill him?” Cas’s breath stutters and he steps forward with wide eyes as his heart nearly pounds out of his chest.

“That remains to be seen,” Griggs says flatly, a note of disgust in his tone as he rakes his gaze over Castiel.

“Griggs. Go make sure the scene is contained.” Mills points toward the front of the coffee shop with a scowl until the man spins on his heel and storm off with a huff. “Sorry about him. I just need a few more details and you two can be on your way.”

Cas lets out a heavy breath as Missy curls into his side seeking warmth. He wraps an arm around her and leans his filthy cheek against her silky hair as Officer Mills flips to a fresh page in her book.

They answer her questions, Cas swallowing hard when she asks him for his identification and contact information.

“I need your employer's phone number too, so we can reach you if we have further questions.” Mills stares him down, a no-nonsense frown etched in her features as he shuffles his feet.

“Oh no! I need to call Marv!” Missy’s eyes widen. “He’s the owner here. Ugh! He’s going to be so angry!”

Mills nods. “He’s already been called, you don’t need to worry about anything. Now, Castiel, I need your work contact information.”

Cas sucks in a deep breath and looks everywhere but at the Officer in front of him. “I don’t… I don’t have a job.”

Mills arches a brow, unimpressed with his answer and Missy elbows him in the ribs. “Earlier, you both said you stopped by the coffee shop on your way to work and then noticed something wrong on your way home. Now you don’t have a job? Which is it?”

Cas sucks in another deep breath and fights against the tears threatening to well in his eyes. “I… I’m…”

“Deep breath. I’m not looking to get you in trouble, but I need to have a complete record. I’m guessing from the way you’re dressed that maybe your employment isn’t the most legal?” Mills reaches out to touch his shoulder.

Cas pinches a frown as he takes a step backward and shakes his head. A cop is asking him to confess that he’s been breaking the law for years. This may very well be the only thing that can make his life worse than it already is.

He can’t go to jail.

He _can’t_.

“Fine. But without all of your information, your statement will be tossed out because of inconsistency.” Mills rests a hand on her hip.

“You can’t just make it anonymous?” Missy steps forward and takes Castiel’s hand

Bless her. Bless her a million times over.

But he needs to stand on his own two feet.

“I’m a sex worker,” he says, braver than he feels.

Missy squeezes his hand supportively and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’s been holding.

Officer Mills nods as if he merely confirmed what she already knew. “Got a record?”

Cas swallows hard and shakes his head. “No.”

“Good.” Mills offers a small smile as she writes in her notebook. “Self-employed, got it.” She takes a moment to flip through the pages. “Alright. I think that’s all I need. Do you have someone you can call?”

Missy nods and Cas simply closes his eyes. “My parents, I think I’d like to stay the night with them.”

“Good, give them a call. We’ll be here a while longer if you need us, but you’re free to go as soon as the medics check you out.” She squeezes Missy’s shoulder and gestures them toward the front of the coffee shop where the red and blue lights still flash.

“Who are you going to call?” Missy nudges his shoulder as they walk and his stomach sinks further.

Dean wouldn’t want to talk to him. He doesn’t want to bother Gabriel.

He doesn’t have anyone else.

“Cas.” Missy grips his shoulder and he meets her tear reddened eyes with a sniffle. “Call Dean. Whatever you think you did, it’s not worth making yourself be alone right now.”

“I can’t,” he frowns as his stomach contorts and a fresh wave of shame washes over him. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

Missy pinches a frown and closes her eyes tightly as she shakes her head. “Fine. Right.”

“Miss, if you come over here, the medics will get you checked out,” another uniformed officer interrupts them just as Officer Mills touches his elbow lightly. Missy spares him a pitying glance before letting herself be led away and Cas turns to Mills as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Yeah?” Cas asks warily, noticing how Mills is standing with her feet spread slightly apart and her arms crossed over her chest.

“You ok, kid?” She asks and Cas immediately nods. “And I’m not talking about this,” she adds, gesturing toward the coffee shop behind them. “I’m talking about what you said back there, about being a sex worker.”

Cas sucks in a sharp breath and narrows his eyes as he struggles to hold down the coffee from earlier. “Are you going to arrest me?”

Mills lets out a heavy breath through pursed lips and shakes her head as she moves her hands to her hips. “I don’t want to.”

“Then don’t.” Cas huffs and he drops his gaze with a hard swallow. She could, she could arrest him and then he wouldn’t have to worry about rent anymore. He’d have to worry about protecting himself in jail.

He can’t imagine that would go over well and if Gabe wasn’t ashamed of him before, he will be now.

“I don’t intend to,” Mills says just as sharply and stares him down with an arched brow. “I just wanna know that you’re selling yourself of your own free will. Is anyone forcing you? A pimp or anyone who tells you what to do?”

Cas’s head rears back and he meets her worried gaze with a frown and his brows furrow. “No…”

“Are you sure? Because I can help you…” Mills reaches forward to rest her hand on his shoulder and her expression turns so damn motherly that Cas could puke.

“No. I’m fine. I’d like to go now,” he says, bile rising in his throat at the turn their conversation has taken. Meg took great care to keep them out of the clutches of the police and pimps. Sure, they could have brought in more money if they had let someone manage them, but he’s heard too many horror stories of what could happen. The control they would lose was something he wasn’t willing to risk giving up.

Mills holds out her hand, offering him a crisp white card. “Take my card. If you need help, don’t hesitate to call.” She thrusts the small piece of heavy paper at him until he slowly reaches forward to take it with mumbled thanks. “Your turn with the medics. Take care, Castiel.”

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose and squares his shoulders. “Thank you.”

Mills offers him a weak smile and a gentle touch to his shoulder as a way to nudge him toward the waiting medics.

When he turns, Missy is meandering toward him with her phone pressed to her ear and fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. He assumes she's talking to her parents, telling them what happened and he envies her for that connection. To have someone to care enough to make him cry all over again… he lets out a haggard sigh and shakes his head.

No sense in dwelling on his pathetic situation.

The red and blue flashing lights cast eerie shadows on the familiar brick walls as he makes his way to the waiting ambulance and the paramedic gestures for him to climb into the back without a word.

He gives his name when asked and assures the medic that this isn’t necessary.

He isn’t injured.

Physically, he’s fine and he barely restrains his bitter snort when the man asks him how he’s feeling mentally, if he needs someone to talk to.

He’s a mess.

He doesn’t need a medic to tell him that so he turns down the offer for some trauma counseling recommendations.

He’ll be fine.

His exam passes in a daze even though it’s the most medical attention he’s had in years. He’s lucky to have youthful health on his side, he knows all too well that many aren’t even afforded that much.

By the time he’s dismissed, Missy is sitting on the curb hugging her knees with Marv crouched in front of her. He’s never met the man, but he knows Missy well enough to know that she doesn’t care for him and Cas’s feet carry him forward before he bothers considering his options.

The walk across the parking lot seems to take an eternity and his heart sinks further with every step but the flash of a grateful smile from Missy when he drops onto the curb beside her makes the misery worth it.

Marv, of course, scowls at him before woodenly thanking him for stepping in to protect Missy. To his credit, he only grumbles under his breath instead of shouting about the bloody mess and broken windows.

It seems that the police still milling around have his legendary temper somewhat curbed.

“Your parents coming?” He asks when Marv finally wanders away to speak with the police detectives who have finally shown up.

Missy nods. “Don’t you have anyone to call?”

She’ll be going home shortly and he’ll be left to wander back to his empty apartment, alone.

His eyes burn with tears he refuses to shed, his grief crushing down on him now that the nauseating burst of adrenaline is starting to dissipate in his blood.

He doesn’t want to be alone.

Still, he shakes his head and wipes his eyes before turning to Missy with a smile. “I’ll be fine.”

She huffs and shakes her head. “My parents will be here in about a half-hour. Wait with me?”

“Of course,” Cas says softly, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

As if he could even consider leaving her alone right now, after what that bastard tried to do. He should have listened to his gut, shouldn’t have left her to begin with after the way that asshole had leered at her.

He knew that guy was trouble but he didn’t think… Cas struggles to take a deep breath to force his spiraling thoughts off of the track they’ve decided to barrel down. He came back in time, she’s safe.

It’s fine.

Still, he isn’t letting her out of his sight until she’s safely tucked into her parent’s car and that is not up for debate.

He’ll deal with himself later.

They wait quietly, the buzz of the police around them slowly fading as the uniformed cops disperse and detectives start evaluating the scene. Occasionally, someone comes up and asks them a few questions and they give their contact information more times than they can keep track of.

To the detective’s credit, his long-expired ID only earns him one sideways glare and a gruff reminder to get it renewed.

Cas easily makes the promise, knowing that his brother will be on his way shortly with his birth certificate and then he should be able to become a real person again, at least in the eyes of society.

Before he realizes how much time has passed, a newer Jeep Renegade is screeching into the parking lot and a woman with long, blond hair is launching herself from the SUV before the driver can manage to throw it into park.

“Mom!” Missy is off the curb and running toward the woman with fresh tears streaming down her cheeks before Cas realizes what’s happening.

By the time Cas manages to climb to his feet, Missy is engulfed by hugs and sobbing heartily. He hangs back, watching the scene with an ache in his chest that has him rubbing over his heart idly.

He’s glad for her, she’s going to need the support and loving parents is something he hasn’t had the luxury of in so long that he can barely remember what it felt like.

He rubs his eyes again as the pit in his stomach grows. She doesn’t need him anymore, he should go back to his apartment.

There is nothing left for him to do.

“Mom, Dad, I want you to meet Castiel. He saved me,” Missy says just loud enough for him to hear and leads her parents over to where he’s been lingering.

“Castiel.” Missy’s father holds his hand forward just as her mother launches herself at him with open arms, sobbing something about saving her baby.

Cas staggers backward under her weight and Missy works to pry her mother away even as Cas puts an instinctive arm around her back, resting his open palm between her shoulder blades.

Now he knows where Missy has gotten her propensity for hugging and he strangely doesn’t mind.

In fact, he leans into the hug before he can stop himself and rests his chin her shoulder. Words fail him as she clings and Missy rolls her eyes with a tired and drawn out, “Mom, leave the man alone.”

“Right,” her mother sniffs, pulling away with a watery smile. “Sorry about that.”

Cas flashes a subdued smile. “It’s quite alright.” He turns back to Missy with a dip of his chin. “Are you okay if I head home?” He needs to leave, there isn’t a place for him here anymore. He doesn’t want to intrude.

Missy smiles sadly and nods. “Call him, Cas.” She reaches down to touch his hand gently enough to make that cursed lump rising in his throat as he shakes his head.

He can’t.

After another hug and disapproving frown, Missy lets him go and Cas wanders in the vague direction of his apartment, stomach sinking further with every step. His eyes burn but he can’t be bothered to wipe away the moisture on his cheeks.

His hands are too unsteady to even try.

His steps falter and he catches himself on the nearest building, a glass storefront that he presses his brow to and he fights to breathe. When he lifts his chin and the man staring back at him is wide-eyed and terrified, he shakes his head as he turns to slide down onto the sidewalk.

His knees draw up to his chest, but the lump of his phone digs harshly against his hip and he pulls it front his pocket with a disgruntled cry. The screen lights up the darkness, a photo of Dean staring back at him when he dares to look and his heart fractures.

Before he can stop himself, his fingers are blindly stabbing at the buttons and the number on the other end of the time starts to ring.

Three, four, five, rings pass and Cas holds his breath, nearly ready to hang up when Dean’s groggy voice comes over the line.

“Cas?” Dean mumbles but the urgency in his tone is unmistakable. “Are you okay?”

Cas shakes his head and a broken sob escapes. “Dean,” he nearly sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Shuffling comes over the other end of the line as Dean shifts. “Where are you? I’m coming to get you.”

He doesn’t have the will to argue. He _needs_ someone right now and the only person he wants is Dean. He sniffled and wipes his eyes as he looks around, trying to figure out where he is.

Turns out, he managed to get himself turned around and is farther from his apartment than where he started.

“Just stay right there, okay? Promise me, Cas,” Dean says after Cas gives him the cross streets.

Cas sniffs and nods. He can hear a door slamming and booted feet pounding down the stairs in the background. Dean is coming for him.

After all the shit he’s put him through, Dean is still coming for him. His stomach flips and his eyes burn for another reason.

When he finally gathers the ability to speak, his voice is hoarse and full of heart-wrenching gratitude. Maybe he hasn’t ruined everything.

Maybe he still has a chance.

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left... I am holding myself to that. It will be a happy ending, I promise.
> 
> I feel bad about not writing Dean's POV after Cas left, but this was already getting away from me.... so here's this, a cliff-notes version.
> 
> After Cas stormed out, Dean wanted to chase. For the longest time, he held Baby's keys clenched in his hand, warring with himself over letting Cas go but he'd had enough. He couldn't keep doing this.
> 
> From day one, Dean had been the one to pursue despite Cas's reluctance. Maybe it was finally time to stop and let Cas come back on his own.
> 
> Dean didn't sleep that first night, he was worried sick. The bruising on his jaw wasn't that bad, Cas mostly missed, but the dull sting kept reminding Dean of his decision to wait... no matter how awful he felt. When his phone rang that second night, his heart soared until he heard the broken rhythm of Cas's tear-filled voice on the other end of the line and fear filled his gut. 
> 
> Not going to Cas wasn't even an option, not when he sounded so crushed and defeated. Everything else was going to have to wait.


	14. The days that make everything worth it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout from Castiel's worst night yet continues, and he discovers that maybe, just maybe, everything is going to be okay.

Dean’s heart hammers and his fingers drum on Baby’s wheel as he inches through the nighttime streets. San Francisco is always busy to some degree, the curse of living in a big city, but the traffic now that it’s approaching three am is sparse.

Which is good, he considers idly, because his mind is in no shape to pay close attention to the road when his gut churns anxiously about what state he’s going to find Cas in.

He sounded broken on the phone. Dean had thought Cas was broken when they found Meg, but the few syllables Cas had uttered were enough for him to know that this kind of hurt ran deeper.

The kind of deep that Dean isn’t sure he’ll be able to help and he’d been too chicken shit to ask over the phone.

He pulls in a deep breath to steady his nerves when his phone tells him to turn. This part of town isn’t far from Cas’s apartment but Dean’s never been here before. He had to plug the address into the Maps app on his phone before he even had a clue.

“Come on, where are you…” Dean whispers under his breath as he leans over the wheel to scan the sidewalk, Baby slowed to a crawl. He knows he must be close, Cas gave him an intersection that he’s about to cross and as pissed as he is at the man, Dean doesn’t think he’d lie to him.

Not when he sounded so distraught.

“Fuck,” Dean breathes, digging the heel of his palm against his eye.

Finally, he spots the huddled form of a man slumped on the sidewalk with knees drawn up to his chest and he lets Baby slow to a stop in front of him. His seatbelt is nothing to undo, and he’s quickly tumbling out onto the street. “Cas?” He questions, recognizing the man even without seeing his face.

Cas lifts his chin and even in the darkness, his eyes are the deepest blue Dean has ever seen. He’s sure it’s simply his imagination, he shouldn’t be able to see such vivid color in the night, but nonetheless, his feet are swiftly carrying him toward the other man without a second thought.

He drops to his knees and tugs on Cas’s hand before Cas moves an inch and he feels like a puppet in Dean’s hands. “Cas,” Dean says again, emotion clogging his throat when he notices the dark streaks over Cas’s skin. Some sort of filth that’s been poorly wiped away.

He doesn’t care. Not when Cas’s shoulders start to shake.

“Shh, I got you,” Dean whispers as he tugs Cas forward to press their brows together. “I got you.”

“Dean,” Cas cries as his fingers grapple at the thin material of Dean’s tee. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“Shhh.” Dean interrupts Cas’s babbling and holds him close. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, are you hurt? Did I hurt you?” Cas’s fingers gently probe at Dean’s jaw and Dean shakes his head.

“It’s nothing. We can talk about it later. Let's get you home, okay?” Dean swallows hard, hoping that Cas takes home to mean Dean’s apartment.

Frankly, he doesn’t want to let Cas out of his sight but he isn’t going to make that decision for him.

“Can…” Cas stutters before shaking his head. “Can I stay at your place? The medics said I shouldn’t be alone tonight I just…I need you.”

Dean’s heart fractures at the amount of pain laced within Cas’s tone but his mind catches on two particular words. “The medics? What medics? Babe, what happened?” He can’t stop himself from asking, the worst-case scenario flashing through his mind before he shoves it down.

If Cas was attacked badly enough to need a medic, he’d be in the hospital. Not crying on the street corner.

Cas shakes his head. “Someone tried to hurt Missy, I…I almost killed him.”

“Wait, what? Missy?” Dean shakes his head. He has at least a dozen questions, but who the hell is Missy?

“The barista at the coffee shop where we met,” Cas explains simply. “A customer tried to… he forced her into the back, ripped her clothes!”

Dean nods, starting to understand. “And you stopped him?”

Cas nods pitifully and Dean drags him against his chest.

“You’re a goddamn hero then,” he says into Cas’s sticky hair.

Cas shakes his head. “I almost killed someone.” He sniffles but his gaze is haunted and his hands tremble where they’re fisted in Dean’s shirt.

Dean nudges Cas’s chin upward to meet his gaze and gently presses their lips together but Cas pulls away with a wounded sound and Dean’s hopes plummet as Cas shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Cas mutters, eyes heavy with sorrow. “I let him…”

“It’s okay,” Dean hurries to interrupt even as his stomach twists. “It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind, I get it.”

Cas shakes his head harder and his eyes widen. “No, no no no.”

“Really, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” Dean waves a hand and stuffs his feelings into the strongest box he can find.

This emotional crap has never been his forte.

Not that he doesn’t want to help.

He does.

But how? How is he supposed to comfort someone who has every right to be hurt, every right to be angry?

If Cas doesn’t want him like that anymore, then he’ll live with it. Cas needs a friend more than anything and Dean can give him that much.

“How about we go back to my place and you can clean up, get some sleep. We can talk about this in the morning?” Dean offers, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“No, Dean, please, listen to me.” Cas grips his hands and tugs Dean closer, his tone urgent. “I haven’t changed my mind. I swear. It’s just, I hurt you.” He shakes his head. “I hurt you and I left even after everything you did for me, then I let…” he sucks in a deep breath and closes his eyes tightly. “I let someone else kiss me.”

“What?” Dean pulls back, the bottom dropping out of his stomach. “Why?”

Cas sighs and shakes his head. “Money, he offered so much, I couldn’t say no…”

“A john. You let a john kiss you?” Dean wants to laugh. Not only do other men get to fuck his boyfriend, but now he’s selling kisses too? Dean thought he at least got something to himself.

Cas nods with a frown and swallows hard. “I can’t…I can’t do that anymore. I’m done. I’ll live on the street if I have to, but I can’t…” he breaks off to suck in a deep breath and Dean does his best to swallow down the mix of emotions coursing through him.

“Do you mean that? No more hooking?” Dean searches Cas’s gaze, his eyes dancing back and forth as Cas nods.

“No more.” Cas nods and Dean’s heart skitters with excitement despite his lingering doubt.

He’s still upset.

They have a lot to talk about and he isn’t going to put up with a boyfriend who hits him.

Dean might not deserve better, but dammit, he spent enough time playing the part of a punching bag for his dad.

He’s done with that.

But if Cas is willing to take this giant step forward, then maybe they have a real chance.

Now isn’t the time for that conversation, though. Right now, Cas needs him and Dean is determined to be there for him.

Everything else can wait.

Cas nods with a sniffle and lets Dean pull him to his feet and into a crushing hug. “I’m so glad,” Dean murmurs in Cas’s ear. “Come on, let's go home.”

Cas nods weakly and sucks in a deep breath as he brushes his fingers against Dean’s, asking permission.

Dean laces their fingers together readily and can’t stop the gentle smile that forms with the feeling of Cas’s warm palm against his. The walk to the Impala is short and Dean helps Cas into the passenger seat with a thundering heart.

“Uh, right,” Dean stammers and straightens with flushes cheeks when Cas gives him a quirked smile and reaches to take his seatbelt before Dean can reach over him to buckle it himself. After that bit of utter humiliation, never let it be said that Dean isn’t capable of being a mother hen, he quickly steps around the car and dumps himself into his seat with a redeeming grunt.

“I’m sorry about yesterday, I never… I’ve never lashed out like that before,” Cas says softly, barely turning his head to meet Dean’s gaze.

“You’re grieving. Man, I get it.” Dean shakes his head, ignoring the fact that he should chew Cas out for throwing that punch. Yeah, Cas’s emotions were all over the board and Dean came on a little too strong but that’s no excuse. “Just, uh, don’t let it happen again.” He clears his throat and keeps his focus on the road in front of him.

He can’t bring himself to look at Cas, to take in the man’s silence or risk him making more empty promises.

He heard enough of those from his father.

“I…” Cas’s breath hitches as he reaches across the seat to rest his hand over Dean’s. “I won’t. Ever.” He scoots around on the seat to meet Dean’s eyes earnestly. “I promise.”

Dean looks over, staring into Cas’s deep blue eyes and the smudged liner circling them messily. The look would be comical if not for the circumstances. Dean reads nothing but sincerity in Cas’s gaze, although he knows he isn’t the best judge of character, and he can’t help but be willing to give Cas another chance.

Eventually, Dean nods before turning back to the road. “Okay. Just know, I ain’t gonna put up with that shit.” His nerves tremble giddily as he demands more than he deserves. To hell with what he deserves. He _wants_ and damn it, it’s about time he started trying to get what he wants.

“I would be concerned if you would.” Cas squeezes his hand. “I promise, I won’t hit you again. I was... I wasn’t myself.”

Dean sighs and lifts Cas’s hand to place a chaste kiss on his knuckles. “I know, Sunshine. You’ve been through a lot, you had every right to be angry.”

Cas shakes his head with a snort. “I had no right to take it out on you.”

Dean shrugs. “True. But what's done is done. Now, we’re going to go home, get you cleaned up and get a little bit of sleep before I gotta get up for work.”

“You forgive me?” Cas looks to him with wide eyes and Dean can’t help but laugh at the raccoon look.

He reaches over and wipes his thumb over the dark smudges. “Yeah, I forgive you.”

“Thank you,” Cas mumbles, still staring in the eerie way he does. With the overhead street lights flashing by, he looks almost ethereal out of the corner of Dean’s eye. Like a fallen Angel who is too stubborn to quit but too broken to keep fighting.

That’s okay, Dean decides.

They can fight together.

Cas doesn’t let go of his hand until he’s making the turn into the small lot behind the garage and he needs the hand to shift into park. Even then, Cas doesn’t let him go far.

“Come on, lets get you cleaned up.” He squeezes Cas’s hand as they walk toward the back door. The sun is still a long way off from brightening the sky but the night isn’t quite as dark as it was when he had woken to Castiel’s call and he sees shadows starting to form through the hazy windows of the garage as he stifles a yawn.

He doesn’t even want to look at his watch.

Maybe Bobby with let him take a half-day, make Ash pull his weight for once.

Yeah, right, Dean huffs to himself as he trudges up the stairs with Cas trailing close behind.

“You can go back to sleep, Dean, I can manage the shower,” Cas says softly once they’re locked on the right side of Dean’s door and Dean does his best to suppress another a hearty yawn.

A yawn that abruptly ends when he finally gets a good look at Cas.

The smears of filth over Cas’s cheeks have a pink tinge and his shirt is tacky with still drying crimson. “Cas,” he says on a gasp, prompting Cas to look down at himself.

“Oh,” Cas says, tone vacant and yet somehow still sounding surprised. As if he managed to forget the fact that he’s covered in blood.

“Is that blood?” Dean swallows hard. The renewed pounding of his heart tells him that he already knows the answer, but he refuses to believe it until he hears the words from Castiel’s mouth.

Cas nods and sucks in a sharp breath. “It’s not mine.”

“Jesus, Cas.” Dean takes a half step back with furrowed brows when Cas nods.

“He was attacking Missy, all I had was my pocketknife.” Cas drops his gaze to the floor and his shoulders rise with the breath he takes. “He was hurting my friend and I… I,” Cas stumbles over his words as his eyes turn glassy and he shakes his head, biting his lip. “The police cuffed me, checked out my story, and Missy’s. I didn’t…I wouldn’t,” he trails off, shaking his head again as he rubs his wrists where the harsh metal left faint bracelets of reddened skin.

“Okay, okay.” Dean nods and takes a step forward with a deep breath. If the police where involved, everything must be okay. “I know,” Dean whispers as he gathers Cas in his arms, bloody clothes be damned. “Let's get cleaned up.”

He needs to touch Cas, feel him safe and whole beneath his hands.

He needs to see him clean and bundled into bed.

And he needs all of that right now.

“Wait,” Cas stops suddenly as his gaze lands on the kitchen counter and Dean winces as Cas spins to face him. “Dean.”

Dean sucks in a breath through his nose and his jaw tightens against his will. “I didn’t open it.”

Even so, his attention is still drawn to the bottle on the counter, the amber liquid inside beckoning him.

“I… you left and I just, I needed,” he rambles and shakes his head as his throat tightens. “I stopped myself. I, I didn’t open it.”

“Oh, Dean,” Cas says softly, pain coloring his tone as he strokes gentle fingers down Dean’s cheek. “I am so, so, sorry.”

Dean sniffs and nods. When Cas left, he left a knife in his heart that Dean hadn’t known what to Dean with.

He was too proud to call Sam or Bobby.

But the guy at the liquor store was kind enough to sell him a bottle of bourbon that promised to solve all his problems, at least for a little while.

Except, when he was standing there, glass in hand with the bottle in front of him, Dean had realized he needed more than the temporary numbness that the alcohol would have brought him.

His fingers had trembled so hard that he couldn’t even manage to tear the plastic seal from the cap and his eyes clouded with what he refuses to admit were tears. There was dust in the air, that’s all.

“I’m proud of you,” Cas says, breaking Dean out of his tumbling thoughts.

He shakes his head. “I went and bought the damn thing, there's nothing to be proud of.”

“I disagree.” Cas laces their fingers together. “You’re so strong, Dean.”

“Cas,” Dean’s voice threatens to break so he swallows down the rest of his words.

“No, that, that’s my fault, for hurting you.” Cas shakes his head as he points to the liquid temptation and Dean bites his lip to disagree. “Fuck, Dean, I’m so sorry to push you to this.”

Dean shakes his head. “S’not your fault I’m screwed up.”

Cas smiles sadly but doesn’t release Dean’s hand as he continues into the bathroom. Dean isn’t about to complain, not when his entire being craves being close to Cas right now. The last few days have rubbed his emotions raw to the point of bleeding and the only person who can soothe the pain is right in front of him.

It’s a tight fit for both of them in Dean’s tiny shower, but he doesn’t care. Cas is warm and real, touching the planes of Dean’s body reverently and pressing warm kisses to his shower slick skin.

The moment could turn heated, desperate, but Dean is too busy marveling at the water sluicing off of Castiel’s skin, turned pink by the filth it rinses from his body. His heart clenches when he takes in a reddened mark on Cas’s hip, distinctly shaped like a hand that isn’t Dean’s.

“Cas,” he says, voice merely a croak as his fingers ghost over the mark and he turns his head toward the shower wall with clenched eyes. He can’t bring himself to look, not when his stomach churns and threatens to make his eyes burn.

“Never again, Dean. I promise,” Cas understands, of course, he does, and he presses Dean’s hand over the developing bruise on his hip. “I promise.”

Dean’s bottom lip juts out and his eyes sting as he throws his arms around Castiel’s shoulders, dragging them flush against each other. He blinks back the excess water in his eyes and swallows hard, dropping his chin against Cas’s shoulder as the man rubs soothing circles over his back.

When they pull apart, Cas reaches for the washcloth but Dean gently pries it from his fingers. He needs to do this, he needs to touch and feel for himself.

He needs to know that they’re both going to be okay.

Cas trembles beneath Dean’s hands, fine tremors that are barely noticeable underneath the soapy washcloth that Dean is ghosting over Cas’s skin. Gently around his collar bone and over his shoulders, sliding down his firm chest and across his sides.

Even being naked together, Dean looks over Cas’s body appraisingly, searching for signs of injury. The normal heat that Dean would feel building low in his belly is absent in entirety and his mind barely registers how enticing Castiel’s body can be.

No.

This isn’t about sex.

This is an affirmation. Benediction maybe. All those fancy words that people with a better education than him can come up with to describe the sheer relief he feels as the soap washes away to reveal unblemished skin.

“Dean,” Cas says with reverence to his tone as he reaches up to brush water from Dean’s cheek. “It’s okay.”

Dean sniffles. He hadn’t even realized his eyes were tearing up again until he blinks and a tear slides lazily down his cheek.

The next thing he knows, Cas is wrapping his arms around him in the small space, their slippery bodies pressed together from chests to knees. “I love you,” Cas whispers in his ear. “I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve any of this, but I’m not letting go this time. I am so sorry I hurt you.”

Dean knows Cas keeps talking, but his heart stops beating after the first three words and his eyes start to burn in earnest. “Cas,” Dean chokes out, fingers scrabbling for purchase against Cas’s shoulder blades.

“Shhh, it’s okay. You’re okay,” Cas says softly. “I know it’s early, and I don’t expect you to feel the same, but I need you to know. I love you.”

Dean lets out a laugh through his very manly tears and pulls back to wipe his eyes. “I’m supposed to be the one comforting you.”

Cas simply smiles and adds soap to the washcloth before gesturing for Dean to turn around. “And you are.” He presses a kiss to Dean’s shoulder before starting to lather the soapy washcloth in lazy circles. “Just by being you.”

Dean huffs out a watery laugh and leans into Castiel’s touch. “I do you know, love you.” It’s too soon but he knows the words are true as they pass his lips and Cas’s hand stills between his shoulders. “You deserve the world, Cas. You deserve so much more than me, but I’m a selfish bastard. I’m not letting go either.”

He turns when Cas whines low in his throat and draws the man into a searing kiss to silence the thundering of his heart. Their lips move together as they stand under the quickly cooling spray of the shower and when he pulls back, Cas blinks up at him with water droplets clinging to his long lashes.

He’s perfect in a way that is so utterly flawed, so deeply human, and Dean’s heart clenches as he brushes his thumb across Cas’s full lower lip and over the arch of his cheek. “We should probably get out,” he says softly, hesitant to break the spell they’re under but not willing to be chilled by running out of hot water.

Cas nods and turns around to shut off the spray while Dean reaches for towels.

They dry off in silence, exchanging shy smiles and fleeting touches even as they pull on fresh boxers to sleep in. Dean climbs into bed while Cas finishes his nighttime routine in the bathroom with the toothbrush he left behind before.

Thankfully, Cas doesn’t take very long and he slides in behind Dean and wraps a strong arm around Dean’s chest and tugs him close.

“Thank you for coming for me,” Cas whispers before pressing a fleeting kiss into Dean’s hair.

“Always,” Dean says sleepily as he snuggles back against his boyfriend.

“Goodnight, Dean.” Cas cinches him tighter and burrows his nose into the crook of Dean’s neck with a contented sigh.

“G'Night, Cas.”

The steady rise and fall of Cas’s chest against his back lulls Dean into that hazy space between sleepy and awake where everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. He slowly descends into true sleep, content in the moment, and determined not to worry about the road that lies ahead.

\---

*Two days later*

“He won’t let me out of my lease,” Cas grumbles as he tosses the last bag of his belongings, at least the ones he cares about, into the back seat. “My contract isn’t up for five more months.” He frowns and shakes his head, he could have sworn the lease he agreed to expires in January but Zachariah is now saying March.

Something isn’t right but he was an _idiot_ when he got the apartment and agreed to verbal terms instead of written.

He knew better, he really did, but he was desperate to get Meg off the streets and was willing to deal with the consequences later.

Which happens to be now.

He buzzes his lips with his exhale and scrubs a hand down his face as he leans against Baby. It hadn’t taken much convincing when Dean asked him to move in with him. Not only does he love the idea of going to sleep next to Dean every night and waking up with him every morning, but the money he can save is incredible.

Bobby had been essentially taking “rent” out of Dean’s paycheck, at least that was the old man’s claim, and he agreed to let Cas pay a nominal amount every month to split the cost with Dean.

Today, they’re moving the last of Cas’s meager belongings and simply leaving the rest for the next tenant.

He hadn’t counted on Zachariah being such a problem.

“Did you give him any kind of ID to make copies of?” Dean questions. “You said you didn’t sign anything, right?”

Cas sighs and shakes his head. “No and no.”

“Then just disappear,” Dean says with a shrug, and Cas gapes at him. “What? If you didn’t sign anything, then as far as the law is concerned, there is no contract.”

Cas arches a brow. “Are you sure about that? He said he had a recording.” He chews his lip and his brows furrow. If Dean is correct, that would make things a lot easier. Unfortunately, he doesn’t think Zachariah would be stupid enough to have their agreement be non-binding in some way. The recording has to hold some weight.

Dean shrugs again and knocks their shoulders together. “We can ask Sam.”

Cas huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “Sam’s just a student, I doubt he’d know.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, “but he might know where to find out.”

Cas hums, that isn’t a terrible idea. Sam probably has an entire library at his disposal and professors willing to answer questions. Still, he doesn’t like the idea of asking anything of Dean’s brother.

He barely knows Sam, he certainly doesn’t know him well enough to ask for help with his problems.

“Hey.” Dean nudges him with his elbow and Cas gives him a sad half-smile. “Stop that. Sam will be glad to answer questions about something he’s passionate about. Trust me. The kids a nerd, he’ll probably talk your ear off.”

Cas rolls his eyes but he suspects that Dean’s right. Sam did get very excited when Ellen had asked him about his studies and judging from the adoringly amused look Jess had given him, it’s something he does often. “Maybe.”

“I’ll take it.” Dean pushes off the car and claps Cas on the shoulder. “You ready?”

Cas sucks in a deep breath through his nose and nods. “Yes. I don’t think I want to see this place again.” His heart does a funny little flutter when the words pass his lips, the thoughts of never setting foot in that apartment again, never sitting on that terrible sofa, or eating at his rickety table again… never yelling at Meg for leaving her dirty clothes on the floor or dishes in the sink.

His breath comes out shaky and he scrubs his hand over his jaw. He doesn’t have any more tears left to cry, but his heart aches fiercely in a way that he isn’t certain will ever heal.

“Come on,” Dean says softly as he squeezes his shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

Cas nods and turns around to open the door. He doesn’t trust his voice and he can’t bring himself to spare another glance as his small pile of belongings in the backseat.

They hadn’t even needed to open the trunk to get everything.

“Wanna get lunch on the way back?” Dean asks as he slides in behind the wheel and Cas shakes his head.

He doesn’t think he could eat right now even if he were hungry. “There’s still that chicken in your fridge, right?” The lovely roasted chicken and potatoes that Ellen had brought over two nights ago when she heard what happened at the café.

Dean hums with a nod. “You mean _our_ fridge, and yeah, there’s still that chicken.” He reaches across the seat for Cas’s hand as they start the drive back to the garage. “Don’t feel like eating?”

Cas pinches a frown and shakes his head. He hasn’t felt like eating since Meg died, hasn’t felt like doing much of anything really and if it weren’t for Dean, he’d probably still be curled up in bed.

“That’s alright. We’ll get changed into some comfy pants and set up a Netflix marathon. Doctor Sexy okay?” Dean glances over and waggles his brows comically and Cas can’t quite smother the little smile that tugs at his lips.

Maybe, just maybe, things are going to be okay.

Not right now, probably not even anytime soon, but someday.

Someday, he’ll be okay.

When they pull up behind the garage, Dean narrows his eyes and grumbles when he discovers a strange car parked in his spot. “What the hell?” He shakes his head and glares as he pulls into Bobby’s spot. “Nevada plates? Ugh. I bet they didn’t even call.”

Dean continues to rant as he shifts Baby into park but his voice is drowned out by the rushing sound in his ears as he stares at the profile of the man in the offending car.

That chin, those lips. Cas shakes his head as he swallows hard. “He,” he starts but his voice is a mere croak. Clearing his throat, he tries again. “He isn’t supposed to be here yet.”

“What?” Dean finally stops complaining and looks over. “Wait… is that?”

“Gabriel.” Getting his life together means nothing, an effort wasted. His heart is going to explode right here and now and nothing will matter anymore.

It seems that the occupant of the other car has finally noticed the lack of people climbing out of the black beast behind him and Cas nearly swallows his tongue at the sight of the sleek silver door slowly opening.

The sight of a foot exiting the car gives him palpitations and his hand finds its way to his chest before he realizes he’s moved.

“Shit, Cas, breathe.” Dean turns to him and grips his shoulders. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Cas glances out the front window and lays eyes on his brother for the first time in years.

He looks old. Well, _older_ at least. Gabriel is no longer the twenty-two-year-old kid he once knew.

He’s grown up.

He’s grown up and made something of himself and he doesn’t need Cas to screw that up for him.

“Cas.” Dean shakes his shoulders. “Castiel!”

Cas’s gaze snaps back to Dean, eyes wide with terror. His mouth refuses to work, his lungs refuse to fill and his heart, well…that’s a lost cause, he’s sure.

A knock on the window nearly startles him out of his skin and he spins to gape at the face of his brother, waving at him with a stupid grin on his face.

“Cassie!” Gabriel tugs on the door handle and it opens before Dean can help Cas with his seatbelt.

“Gabe,” Cas croaks, suddenly discovering just how wrong he was about being out of tears.

Somehow, his buckle gets released and Gabe drags him from the car and into a bone-crushing hug and he can’t breathe for an entirely different reason.

“Cassie,” Gabriel chokes out and holds him tighter as he buries his chin against Cas’s shoulder.

Time ceases as Cas breathes his brother in. All of his fears and worries wash away with the force of Gabriel’s arms around his back and his damp eyes against his shoulder.

For the first time, Cas wishes he were the little brother in every sense of the word rather than being several inches taller than his big brother. For a moment, he feels ten years old again and wants little more than to climb into the safety of Gabriel’s arms to hide from the world.

Nothing can touch him here. His heart clenches and his eyes burn as he feels the steady rhythm of Gabriel’s heart against his own, beating in tandem, bonded like only siblings can be.

He hadn’t realized how much he missed this, hadn’t let himself feel the pain of losing Gabriel even if it was by his own choice.

That was a terrible choice he made, one of his worst, and he’s never regretted it more.

“I missed you,” he manages to murmur against the collar of Gabe’s jacket when he ducks his chin and clenches his fingers in the soft leather.

“I missed you too, kiddo,” Gabriel says, voice clogged with emotion. He finally pulls back and wipes his eyes with his sleeves. “You look like shit.”

Cas barks a laugh and shakes his head. “Thanks a lot, assbutt.”

“Seriously, Cassie. When did you sleep last?” Gabe reaches forward to pinches his cheek with a frown. “And why are you so skinny?”

Dean clears his throat behind them and Cas startles, finally remembering his boyfriend and he holds out his hand to beckon Dean closer. Dean approaches with a flat smile and nods toward Gabriel. “Me and my family are trying to fatten him up some.”

Cas flushes and Gabe nods approvingly. “You must be Dean.” Gabe holds out his hand with a cautious smile. “I’m Gabriel.”

Dean chuckles as he takes Gabe’s hand but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “I figured. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Gabriel narrows his eyes and looks Dean over from head to toe. “So you and my brother are living together now?”

Cas squeezes Dean’s hand and nods. “We are. Since Meg…well, I couldn’t afford my apartment on my own.”

“Oh, Cassie. I’m so sorry about your friend.” Gabriel looks immediately apologetic for his judgmental tone. “You’re still grieving, I didn’t think.” He shakes his head with a frown.

“You weren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow.” Cas flinches a smile, finally remembering why he was so panicked to see Gabriel in the first place. Perhaps this surprise is for the best.

He would have been a wreck all day tomorrow waiting.

Dean surely would have been driven insane by his worrying.

A flash of guilt clouds Gabriel’s expression and he nods. “I, uh, had an opportunity to change my flight. I didn’t want to wait another day if I didn’t have to.”

Cas nods and Dean smiles tensely before nodding and squeezing Cas’s hand. “Well, want to come upstairs? I’ll order some pizza and you two can catch up a bit.”

Gabriel moans headily and nods. “Pizza sounds amazing, I’m starving.”

Cas wishes he could say the same, but he’s glad for Dean’s offer nonetheless.

Dean leads them up the stairs, with Cas bringing up the rear. He isn’t going to bother dragging his things from the car with Gabriel here to judge his meager belongings. He’d rather not let his brother see exactly how pathetic he is, thank you very much.

“ _This_ is where you’re living?” Gabe looks around the space once Dean ushers him in and wrinkles his nose before turning back to Castiel. “Seriously?”

Cas shrugs as Dean squawks indignantly enough to make Cas lose patience for the mild horror etched over Gabriel’s features. “Compared to the dumpster I was living behind until a few months ago, this is luxury.”

He immediately regrets putting his former homelessness so bluntly, but the shocking truth does have the desired effect on his brother.

Gabe snaps his jaw shut and his eyes widen as he shakes his head. “Cassie… why didn’t you call sooner? If things were that bad? You gotta know I wouldn’t have turned you away, not ever.”

Gone is Gabe’s cocky judgment and playful scorn and in their place is an uncomfortably sympathetic man that Castiel doesn’t know at all.

He supposes that it’s only fair that his brother grew up quite a lot in the last decade but that does nothing to lessen the shock.

“Cas did what he had to do.” Dean saves him by slinging an arm around Cas’s back and hooking his thumb into his jeans pocket. “He did the best he could given the circumstances.”

“The circumstances, Dean-o? The circumstances were, he had an entire family he could have called!” Gabriel glares and Cas bristles.

“A family? Do you mean the family that kicked me out onto the street when I was just a kid? You mean you? You were still struggling plenty on your own if I’m not mistaken. You didn’t need my bullshit too.” Cas takes a step toward Gabe every few words until they’re standing toe to toe, Cas glaring down into Gabriel’s widened eyes.

“I’d rather have been given the choice!” Gabriel fires back. “We thought you were dead, Cassie. No amount of your so-called bullshit could be worse than that!”

Cas huffs and shakes his head, letting Dean tug him back to his side. “It felt like it at the time.”

“What was so awful that you couldn’t tell me? I already know about the drugs and your hospital stay, but that can’t be all. Cassie, please. Tell me,” Gabriel pleads with sadness softening his glare. “Tell me what was so horrible you thought I’d turn you away.”

Cas lets out a heavy breath and his eyes slide closed. He hadn’t wanted to have this conversation so soon, if ever. He’s certain that once he knows what Cas has done just to get by, he’ll walk out the door and Cas will never see him again.

He can’t let that happen.

His eyes start to burn and Dean takes his hand with a gentle hushing noise. “Come sit down, Sunshine. You don’t have to talk about anything you’re not ready to.” Dean nudges him toward the sofa and they go down together, Cas immediately dropping his brow to Dean’s shoulder.

“Cas, please,” Gabe starts again and Cas shakes his head.

“Now’s not the time,” Dean interjects sternly and Cas is grateful, so grateful. “How about we order that pizza and stick to lighter topics for now, huh?”

Cas nods and leans into Dean’s side, content to draw strength from his boyfriend for the time being. “I’m sorry, Gabe, but I just can’t right now.” He finally manages to meet his brother’s eyes and give him an apologetic smile.

Gabe pulls in a breath through his nose and nods as he takes a seat in Dean’s armchair. “Right. I guess you’ve been through a lot, huh?”

Cas snorts indignantly and forces himself to sit upright. “Understatement.”

“I just want to be able to help you, Cassie…”

“I know, Gabe, I understand. I’m just not ready to go there yet, okay?” Cas pleads. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be ready, but he isn’t going to say that. Not yet.

Gabe nods with a frown. “Okay. Okay, just please, tell me if I can do anything to help you.” He looks around the extremely modest apartment again before turning his hound-dog eyes back to Castiel. “I have money, I can give you whatever you need.”

“I didn’t call you because I wanted money.” Cas tightens his jaw and shakes his head.

Gabe holds up a placating hand. “I know, I know that. You’ve always been too proud, Cassie. I didn’t think that would have changed.”

Cas nods and then shakes his head. Gabriel isn’t wrong. Even as a child, Cas knows he was too stubborn for his own good.

His hard headedness got him into trouble more often than not in their conservative household, but he was always able to stand on his own two feet. Now, he can barely stand on one and the pain it causes to admit that even to just himself is staggering.

He can’t possibly ask Gabriel for anything more than he already has.

“Did you bring my birth certificate and social security card?” He asks. Gabe told him that he found them in a box at their father’s house and Cas is certain that Gabe wouldn’t have forgotten to bring them.

The man’s answering smirk is enough of an answer.

“Right here, little brother,” Gabe says with a touch of the mischief that Cas remembers as he pulls out a slender envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket. “Didn’t trust the airline enough to put them in my luggage.” He hands over the envelope and Cas opens the simple white paper with trembling hands.

He can’t help but smile down at the thin little blueish card and the stamped paper that declares him to be Castiel James Novak.

There are even footprints from when he was born.

Dean bumps his shoulder and Cas looks over with a slowly growing grin. For the first time in years, he feels worth something. He feels like a real person with a real place in society.

He feels like he _matters_.

“Thank you,” he manages to choke out toward his brother. There is no way Gabe can understand how much these simple pieces of paper are worth, but his misty-eyed gaze is proof enough that he can tell how much they mean to Castiel.

“No problem, baby bro. I still can’t believe you managed all this time without your social security card. How’d you get a job?” Gabe leans back in the chair like he hasn’t come dangerously close to Cas’s most closely guarded secrets. He smiles obliviously, seemingly glad to simply be in the same room as Cas.

Cas sucks in a deep breath and swallows hard. He isn’t going to ruin the moment by admitting the truth. “I, uh, I’ve just been picking up odd jobs here and there, whenever I could.”

Dean bumps his shoulder and smiles at Gabriel. “That’s how we met, actually. Cas was on his way home from a job when my dumb ass wasn’t watching where I was going. I literally ran into him, spilled coffee everywhere!” Dean gestures wildly with his hands to depict the utter mess he made, creating the perfect deflection that Cas is utterly grateful for.

“That barista made him buy me a new drink,” Cas adds with a chuckle. So what if he’s embellishing a little.

Dean chuckles and shakes his head. “Dude, I’d have bought you another one anyway.”

“I know.” Cas smiles softly, mind drifting back to that night, before the coffee shop was forever tainted in memory.

“So you two are regular rom-com material, huh?” Gabe swings one leg over the arm of the chair and pulls a sucker from his pocket.

Dean shakes his head. “I dunno about that.”

“Sure sounds like it to me,” Gabe says with a twinkle in his eye that Castiel does not like one little bit. “Anyway, I thought we were ordering pizza?”

\---

Gabriel stays almost a week and becomes such a fixture in Dean’s little apartment that Cas misses him fiercely almost the instant they hug goodbye at the airport.

If Dean stares at the planes overhead a with more than a little distrust, Cas chooses not to comment.

According to Sam, Dean is terrified of flying and Cas isn’t in a hurry to discover the magnitude of truthfulness to that statement.

After the first awkward day or dancing around each other, Gabriel broke the ice by telling Cas every embarrassing thing he’s done since they last saw each other.

And then he shows Cas a photo of the headstone their father had placed in the family plot for him. Cas can’t stop the nausea and tears when he stares at the small gray stone with his name. There is no death date, Gabriel explained that while they assumed he was gone, they refused to give up hope.

His dad refused to give up hope.

It’s after Gabe shows him more pictures, of how old his father has become and how his childhood bedroom hasn’t changed a bit that he decides calling his dad might not be the worst thing in the world.

He tears up when he learns he has three nieces and nephews, Michael’s children. Twin girls and a little boy with a mop of dark hair and bright blue eyes.

Cas nearly cries when he learns that Michael named his son James and that everyone calls him C.J. even though the C belongs to his middle name.

He missed so much and nothing he can do will ever make up for the lost time, but he figures he needs to start somewhere.

Luckily, Gabe is there when he hears his father’s voice for the first time in more than a decade. A lot of old wounds are scratched open as they talk, but when he hears the tears in his dad’s rough voice, none of that seems so important anymore.

Not when an old man simply wants his son back.

By the time Gabriel hangs up the phone, Cas is exhausted but happier than he’s been in years.

Now that Gabriel has been swallowed up by the airport and Dean is driving them home, Cas takes a moment the think about the whirlwind this last week has been.

One thing he can say is that with his fingers entwined with Dean’s, he’s happy.

And that, right there, is worth everything.

\---

*Two weeks later*

Dean paces, heart doing somersaults in his chest and his stomach is trying desperately to keep up. He checks his watch again, counting down the minutes until he can leave to pick Cas up from his very first day at work.

At the Gas-n-sip.

Stocking shelves.

And Cas hadn’t even seen the hilariousness of that turn of events. He’d simply glared at Dean hard enough that he’d almost swallowed his tongue as he tried to stop laughing. Then, of course, he had to buy Cas a celebratory dinner and Cas had thanked him by doing something with his tongue that Dean hadn’t even known was possible.

His dick plumps in his jeans just for thinking about thinking about remembering the details of that night and he can feel his blood heating.

That’s it.

He’s got to go.

If he stays here thinking about _that_ for too long, he’s going to end up needing to take a cold shower, and then he will absolutely be late.

Luckily, the Gas-n-sip isn’t far away. Just a few blocks that Cas insisted he could walk without difficulty but Dean was determined to pick him up and drop him off, at least for his first day.

For the last three weeks, having Cas to snuggle up to every night and commiserate with during every too early morning has made him feel more alive than he has in years. He has something to look forward to, someone to lean on when his hands tremble just a little too much, and the lingering whispers in his mind plant seeds of doubt.

Sam called him crazy when he found out that he invited Cas to live with him, but Bobby and Ellen barely blinked.

Bobby had a lease drawn up so Cas could have an official address and Ellen helped him pour over help wanted ads when Dean was at work, not even questioning the lies that Cas had told them before.

Dean has never been more grateful for his family.

When he pulls up outside the convenience store, he catches a glimpse of Cas behind the register, peering over a woman’s shoulder with that intense squint of his as she checks out a customer.

His dark hair is a wreck, likely from his habit of running his fingers through it when he’s nervous and his blue vest laid over a white dress shirt he had borrowed from Dean is askew over his chest.

But above everything else, he’s _smiling_. Not just the patented customer service smile either. No, this smile is genuine enough to make his blue eyes sparkle in a way that Dean can see from the parking lot.

The woman claps his shoulder with a smile and steps aside, gesturing for Castiel to take her place at the register and Dean grins at the sight.

That’s it. He’s going in.

Castiel’s eyes meet his when the bell over the door chimes and Dean grins as Cas tries to suppress his answering smile. He peruses the aisles, searching for a snack while keeping half an eye on Cas at the register.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says warmly when Dean finally meanders up to the register and the woman back there with Cas spins to face him.

“So, this is Dean?” She says with a smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Dean, this is Nora. My boss,” Cas explains and Dean smiles at the woman with a chuckle.

“Nice to meet you,” he says. “I hope Cas here hasn’t given you too much trouble.”

She laughs brightly and shakes her head. “Not at all. Other than that incident with the slushy machine, he’s done pretty good for his first day.”

“Slushy machine?” Dean seeks out the mentioned machine and Castiel’s cheeks turn bright red. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” Cas hurries to explain. “Will this be all for you?” He holds up the bag of Twizzlers with a harried smile.

“Caassss.” Dean draws out his name, a smirk growing. “What happened?”

Nora laughs and shakes her head. “Why don’t you take off, Castiel. I got this.”

“Are you certain?” Cas asks, still holding the Twizzlers Dean was about to pay for.

“Absolutely,” she answers, prying the candy from Castiel’s fingers and scanning it quickly. “That’ll be $2.10.”

Dean quickly pays while Cas goes into the back to presumably get ready to leave for the day. “You didn’t have to let him go early, I don’t mind waiting.”

Nora scoffs and waves a dismissive hand. “I was already planning on letting him out an hour ago, but he wanted to learn the register. Most trainees only work two-hour shifts for the first week.”

“But Cas is working four?” Dean asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

She shrugs with a smile. “He impressed me in the interview. It isn’t often we get applications from people over eighteen who don’t have a criminal record.”

Just then, Cas emerges from the back and makes his way toward Dean with warily narrowed eyes and a cautious smile.

“When he finishes training, I think he’ll be exactly what I’ve been needing to help out around here.” Nora winks and waves them off. “See you tomorrow, Castiel. Dean, it was nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Dean says with a dip of his chin. “You ready?” He links his fingers with Cas’s and guides him to the door, secondhand pride swelling in his gut.

They’re going for milkshakes. He will not take no for an answer.

“So, what do you think?” He asks as soon as they’re out the door and Castiel’s answering smile is worth all of the stress that brought them here.

“It feels good,” Cas says, his voice rough as he lets go of Dean’s hand to climb into the car, “To put in an honest days work.”

“Hey,” Dean nudges his shoulder before he has a chance to drop into the seat. “I’m proud of you.” He kisses Cas’s brow quickly even though his cheeks flush hot and he hurries around to his side of the car before Castiel can accuse him of being a sap.

When Cas settles in the seat and closes the door, his mood has soured and Dean’s pride shifts into gnawing concern that he doesn’t dare lend his voice to.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long.

“Zachariah called. He refuses to let me out of my lease. Turns out, the verbal agreement is binding.” Cas stares out the window and takes a heaving breath. “This job is great, but it isn’t enough.”

Dean’s brows furrow as he turns toward Castiel and swallows hard. “We’ll find a way. He won’t just let you pay him off?”

“Even if he would, I have $600 to my name. That isn’t going to be enough.” Cas drops his head against the seat and stares out the window.

Dean nods and sucks in a quiet breath. “We’ll figure something out. For now, milkshakes?”

Cas rolls his head toward Dean with a lazy smile. “You are such an optimist.”

Dean chuckles and shakes his head. “Nah, just when it comes to you.”

Cas reaches across the bench seat and takes Dean’s hand. “I love you.”

Dean’s grin is as automatic as the delighted swoop in his stomach. “Love you too, Sunshine,” he answers, swallowing down the discomfort those little words cause. He withheld them for so much of his life and he refuses to hold them back any longer.

Especially after he made Sammy cry by saying them last week after family dinner. He knew then that he needs to do better and he’s all about self-improvement nowadays it seems.

The line at the Dairy Queen is short, thankfully. Dean can hardly believe these places are still around, but he’s always loved their blizzards. One of the few good memories he has of his dad was going to get ice-cream when him and Sam were both small. Dad would always wipe the mess off Sammy’s cheeks with a fond chuckle before doing the same for Dean and then wiping both their hands.

They were never allowed ice-cream inside Baby, a rule Dean still keeps to this day for obvious reasons, but Dean cherishes those memories even if so many others of his dad are ones he’d rather not think about.

“Steve?” A voice that makes Cas stiffen beside him is enough to pull Dean out of his memories and they turn toward the approaching man.

Castiel’s fingers dig painfully into Dean’s hand as he takes a half step back with wide eyes.

“Cas?” Dean asks, suddenly flooded with concern as his gaze flits to the newcomer. The man is average height, average build, with dark hair and ice-blue eyes. His five o’clock shadow is in full force, lending him a tough yet refined look that pairs well with his suit and tie. He looks like a perfectly average businessman, which does nothing to explain Castiel’s reaction. “What’s wrong?”

Cas sucks in a deep breath and shakes his head as the man approaches.

“Steve?” The man finally comes to a stop in front of them. “Are you alright?”

“Steve?” Dean questions with a wrinkled nose. He’s heard that name before and he is not fond of the memories that dredges up. This can only be one of Cas’s johns and he instinctively places himself between them.

“M… Mick,” Cas stutters out, stepping around Dean without releasing his hand.

Mick grins and his gaze warms when he refocuses on Castiel. “I’ve missed seeing you in the last few weeks. Is everything alright?”

“Cas, who is this guy?” Dean interjects, hating himself just enough to ask the question.

“Cas?” Mick tilts his head and looks to Cas questioningly. “My name is Mick Davies, and you are?” He holds his hand out to Dean as if this is some sort of business meeting and Dean narrows his eyes suspiciously.

“Dean W…” He starts as he shakes Mick’s hand but Cas quickly cuts in.

“I quit. You haven’t seen me because I’m not doing that anymore.” Cas lifts his chin and meets Mick’s gaze confidently.

Mick nods, glancing at Dean and Cas’s joined hands. “I see. And I suppose asking for an encore wouldn’t get me anywhere.” He gestures between them with a sad smile.

Dean nearly growls and his vision flashes dark around the edges of his periphery even as Cas squeezes his hand tighter.

“No, it wouldn’t,” Cas says with more kindness in his tone than Dean would care for him to give.

Mick nods, his lips pinched into a frown. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Well, I’m not, mister,” Dean bites, eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Dean,” Cas chastises as he places a calming hand on Dean’s arm.

“No, Cas,” Dean grumbles. “This guy can’t just proposition you at the friggin Dairy Queen! What the fuck!?”

Cas huffs and Mick shrugs.

“So, your name is Cas?” Mick’s head tilts. “Dean has called you that several times in the last few minutes.”

Castiel sucks in a breath through his nose and nods. “Cas is my real name.”

Dean finds it curious that he doesn’t tell Mick his full name, but he isn’t overly surprised since he did his best to keep that information from his johns to begin with.

“Well, Cas, it’s nice to officially meet you then,” Mick holds out his hand with a wink as if Cas lying to him about something so basic as his name is completely normal.

Maybe it is, for all Dean knows.

“Keep your hands off him,” Dean growls and Cas huffs as he ignores Dean’s bluster.

Cas shakes Mick’s hand with a terse smile and then leans into Dean’s space to whisper shout in his ear. “Be nice! I think Mick works for the mob or something.”

Mick laughs heartily and shakes his head. “You have nothing to fear from me, unless you owe my boss money, of course.” He says with another wink and Dean’s stomach twists. “But somehow, I doubt you’re the type who would find yourselves in that situation.”

Cas nods dumbly and Dean’s heart pounds.

“Anyway,” Mick says brightly as he claps his hands together. “I need to be going, but if you ever need anything, feel free to ask.”

“Thanks…” Cas mutters with a flat smile as he shakes his head but Dean has a spark of an idea.

“Hey, do you, uh, know a Zachariah Adler by any chance?” The words tumble from his mouth before he can stop them and Cas nearly squawks with indignation.

“Dean!” Cas hisses but Dean shrugs.

“What, he said if you need anything…” Dean starts to say but he stalls when he sees Mick’s wolfish smile.

“I know Adler. Is he giving you trouble?” Mick asks, looking at Cas with a worrisome glint in his eyes.

Cas sucks in a breath and closes his eyes. “He won’t let me out of my lease.”

Mick nods and gestures toward the Starbucks next door to where they’re standing. “Let's have a chat and we’ll see what we can do about that.”

Cas shakes his head. “And what will that cost me?”

Mick chuckles and shakes his head. “Nothing, sweetheart. Helping you break free of Adler would simply be a parting gift.” His fingers find his way to Castiel’s cheek and he rubs his thumb gently just below Cas’s eye. “You deserve good things.”

Dean stands as frozen as Castiel, simultaneously agreeing with Mick and hating that he agrees. Most of all, he hates that this slimeball is touching Castiel. He shakes off his stupor and steps forward sharply enough to convince Mick to drop his hand. “What can you do for us?”

Mick can do a lot, as it turns out.

Zachariah is largely disliked by Mick’s employers and it takes very little convincing for Mick to gain permission to flex some muscle and dismantle the racket Adler had going with his apartment building.

Astonishingly, at least to Castiel, was what the police managed to find when they raided the building and took Zachariah away in handcuffs.

Drugs, human trafficking, money laundering…you name it, the police found it.

Mick, of course, wouldn’t say what was real and what his people planted, but in the end none of that matters.

Castiel is free and so are several others who had found themselves beholden to Adler in some way.

His life has changed so drastically in the last few months. From slogging through each day, fighting to simply survive, to losing his best friend while discovering that family doesn’t end in blood and friends can come from the most unsuspected places.

To finding Dean, another man struggling with his demons and trying to survive one day at a time.

Together, they’re stronger and Cas can hardly imagine where he would be without Dean’s persistent encouragement, as frustrating as he can be at times.

Now he has hopes and dreams.

Plans.

Family.

Luxuries he couldn’t imagine when he was merely hanging on by a thread.

The journey to get here has been wild and as Cas lays next to Dean in their bed, holding each other close, he looks forward to what’s to come.

They might never be rich, they most certainly won’t be famous, but they have everything they need in their one precious life.

And that is more than either of them ever thought they would have.

Of course, that doesn’t mean they won’t keep trying for more.

After all, they’ve both finally learned that they deserve good things, and fighting for them is entirely worth the struggle.

-end-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining me on this often painful journey. I appreciate each and every one of you who have taken the time to comment and share your thoughts along the way. If you've enjoyed the story, I would love to hear from you. 
> 
> I've got to decide which project to focus on next, but I'm looking forward to sharing something new with you shortly. I have another installment of Dating a Rockstar in the works, the third and final Hearts installment as well as a story featuring an autistic version of Cas that I've been sitting on for a while AND an a/b/o smutty oneshot involving Alpha mob boss Cas and omega Dean. So much to write...so little time.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, much love and thank you for reading. If you're interested in getting into my head a little and connecting in the world of twitter, my user name is grimmlin_fic . I'd love to see you there.


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